As a self professed 'Sex Blogger', it is more than necessary that I gage a reasonable understanding of the opposite sex. The more I've spent time this week trying to understand men, I realised that I was simply doing what womankind has been doing all day every day for generations. Whoever thought that men were wasting their times thinking about sex 100 times a day should've taken into account the women right beside them, thinking about what the men are thinking. If there were no skull thick barriers, we would simply be spending half our time watching the men in our lives mentally masturbate.
Men as Rubix Cubes
...not quite babe
I was talking this over with my sister the other day, as she was trying to work out the complex motives behind the actions of the men in our lives. After much deliberation it dawned on me what the big problem is. I told her that men are like boxes, but we treat them like rubix cubes. We see these closed vessels and assume that there is something to be solved, and so twist and turn them trying to source out some answers. More often than not though, they will remain closed boxes and we will be the ones with blisters on our fingers and a sense of defeat when we can't crack a totally fictional code.
My sister did not like this idea at all. I believe this isn't because women want to 'crack the code' as it were, but that the simple answers are just not good enough. We live in a generation with an ever growing population of strong and ballsy women who unfortunately will not settle for the idea that the labyrinth men put is through is little more than a simple herb garden. After all, what would all their hard work have been for?
This is not to imply that men exist on earth like erotically charged tumbleweed simply floating towards anything with a vagina and a pulse, but rather that their actions rarely mean little more than they seem. I would love to sit on my high horse and say that I am not one of these girls, but unfortunately I cannot do that. Not only did the last horse I sat on throw me off, but I am wholly guilty in the over analyzing department. The worst part is, it has no bearing whatsoever on the person or how much I care about them. It's just a lethal combination of neurotic jewish genes, serial writer's head and too much interest in the opposite sex. Like Woody Allen and Jessica Rabbit's lovechild.
One of the boys I've been speaking to amusingly said 'I honestly don't have a clue how you percieve some things I say, it's completely beyond me.' In the poor boy's defense, he has never tackled Woody Allen or Jessica Rabbit before, so he can be cut a little slack.
My point is that we will endlessly spend our time analysing any and all boys to the point of derision. I decided that instead of standing back and trying to figure things out in my own bleach blonde head, I would actually go and put myself in the boys environment and see it all for myself. I wondered where I could possibly go that I could watch large groups of men in their natural habitat and totally unexpected. So where did I find myself?
Dusk til Dawn Casino, Nottingham.
Where else.
Dusk til Yawn
I couldn't believe my eyes, much less my male friends for being so in love with this place. Fool that I am, I of course romanticized an image of bright lights, glamorous girls in costume and tall ceilings. Instead I was faced with a dismal windowless room, cheap fluorescent lighting and bored looking waitresses in spandex tops addressing all the men by 'honey' and 'darling'. Nonetheless, the boys didn't truly need these distractions to have a good time. They all settled into the environment and the male comradeship was palpable, as they all got excited for themselves and each other.
As I watched the boys huddled together, sharing their wins and losses I suddenly realised that I had finally learnt something. Of course not about men though, because that would be too easy. It seemed that the more I watched the boys, I learnt more and more about girls. Like being a gay man at a strip club.
Girls and Gambling
...little slut doesn't know what she's in for
More importantly though, it made me think about placing bets. As I was watching the boys deliberate over where to put their chips in Roulette, it reminded me of the painstaking decisions I see girls make every day.
It begs the question, when it comes to love how much should we gamble?
At this age, one would think that we can spread our chips far and wide. This sounds like a perfectly nice idea, if things like reputation and love didn't exist. All I see however is girls going too far to the extremes.
Either we put all our chips on one guy and risk disappointment at worst and complacency at best, or we spread our chips all over the board in the hopes of getting lucky with little bits of short term gratification.
No matter what though, in love and in gambling we always go back for more. While the boys are sitting in debt swearing off casinos forever, the girls are sitting in piles of tissues and ice cream vowing to apply for an allergy bracelet to avoid contact with penis. In spite of all of this, the boys will always draw out more money and the girls will always pull out one more push-up bra.
In a world where it is better to be in the game than miss out altogether, we need to ask ourselves what kinds of bets we're willing to place. As a 19 year old single girl, the odds of me placing all my bets on one guy is out of the question until I'm given a good enough reason. Nonetheless I will always divide my chips threefold. A third for love, a third for fun and most importantly a third for myself. After all it is the bets we place on ourselves that last the longest....otherwise all we're left with is a broken rubix cube.
I'd love to hear your thoughts as always, and look forward to your suggestions for my next post!
Olivia Jane
(p.s. the title was my Dad's idea...you wonder how I came out the way I did)
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