When a young lad at work told me on Monday he had lost his virginity, I didn't know whether to high-five him or mourn for his broken soul. I went for the high-five, it being the desired response from him, to which the world had just begun. For that lad there are no foaming children in Syria, no troubles in any economy and no songs that won't make him dance. Welcome to the world pal- now watch as the women conspire at pounding and beating your heart like a piece of meat, turning it 'tender', eventually.
Of course, I share the same cautionary tale of any other bloke ten years older than he is. I should tell him to watch out for the crazy women but dance with at least one. To live whilst he is young. To try a nymphomaniac at least as often as he can, never getting too attached. I should tell him to risk it all, to run off with someone twice his age and learn everything she will let him. To stake his heart on a matter of pride, lose it all and spend nights yearning and listening to Leonard Cohen. A month or so of wailing and drinking yourself to sleep is eventually good for the soul. I should have told him that women can make you and break you just as easily, and that there will always be another. I should have told him all of those things- the timeless lessons men endure in every generation but I didn't- I gave him the high-five.
I'll never forget the time when, recently single, I was fed up of women. I went along to a poetry event at the local college- thoroughly sick of chasing witches around the town. If I could only snare myself a nice girl- trick one into thinking I was sensitive or something. Someone a bit less hassle. There were two girls smoking, sat on the wall outside. I quickly established one was a lesbian and so focused in. As fate would have it, that girl was a keen poet that enjoyed things like reading and camping so, after getting to know her as 'a friend' for months, I finally plucked up the balls to ask a nice girl out.
Three years on, we've lived together for a while. There should be special lessons at school for surviving women. Whilst girls are being shown how to operate a tampon, take the poor sods to one side for an hour to let them in on the pros and cons of cohabitation. The list of things not to do are endless; as are the lists of things you'll do wrong and be expected to do wrong, being a man and all. I'm lucky- bloody lucky- in that the woman in my life isn't an overbearing, psychotic, un or over-attached, power-crazed, power-dressing nutjob- well, not all of the time. That said, there are certain little things you can do to make things run smoothly... and you'd be amazed how picky women can be about mess!
Thanks for reading, S
The First Lesson
Do the bins and wash pots,
Push the hoover, pair socks
Put the seat back- avoid extra strife
Pet the cat, not a dog
Watch her films on the box
Simple trades for an easy life.
Kormas shared, not Jalfrezis
Attempt to be less lazy
Think of her always before yourself
Visit her folks and yours
Do a fair share of chores
Or she'll put you back out on the shelf.
Of course, I share the same cautionary tale of any other bloke ten years older than he is. I should tell him to watch out for the crazy women but dance with at least one. To live whilst he is young. To try a nymphomaniac at least as often as he can, never getting too attached. I should tell him to risk it all, to run off with someone twice his age and learn everything she will let him. To stake his heart on a matter of pride, lose it all and spend nights yearning and listening to Leonard Cohen. A month or so of wailing and drinking yourself to sleep is eventually good for the soul. I should have told him that women can make you and break you just as easily, and that there will always be another. I should have told him all of those things- the timeless lessons men endure in every generation but I didn't- I gave him the high-five.
I'll never forget the time when, recently single, I was fed up of women. I went along to a poetry event at the local college- thoroughly sick of chasing witches around the town. If I could only snare myself a nice girl- trick one into thinking I was sensitive or something. Someone a bit less hassle. There were two girls smoking, sat on the wall outside. I quickly established one was a lesbian and so focused in. As fate would have it, that girl was a keen poet that enjoyed things like reading and camping so, after getting to know her as 'a friend' for months, I finally plucked up the balls to ask a nice girl out.
Three years on, we've lived together for a while. There should be special lessons at school for surviving women. Whilst girls are being shown how to operate a tampon, take the poor sods to one side for an hour to let them in on the pros and cons of cohabitation. The list of things not to do are endless; as are the lists of things you'll do wrong and be expected to do wrong, being a man and all. I'm lucky- bloody lucky- in that the woman in my life isn't an overbearing, psychotic, un or over-attached, power-crazed, power-dressing nutjob- well, not all of the time. That said, there are certain little things you can do to make things run smoothly... and you'd be amazed how picky women can be about mess!
Thanks for reading, S
The First Lesson
Do the bins and wash pots,
Push the hoover, pair socks
Put the seat back- avoid extra strife
Pet the cat, not a dog
Watch her films on the box
Simple trades for an easy life.
Kormas shared, not Jalfrezis
Attempt to be less lazy
Think of her always before yourself
Visit her folks and yours
Do a fair share of chores
Or she'll put you back out on the shelf.