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        Wednesday, April 20, 2005

    How Much Is That Doggy In The Window?

    Some thoughts on natural selection...

    I do not have any idea how to pick a man. If you want one, that is your problem. I have no use for them.

    I have sought, found, cast away, and been cast away by many women. I have a great deal of experience with women, and, I believe, quite a bit of expertise as well.

    My wife is the Gold Standard. She replaced all previous Gold Standards. I shall focus primarily on her as I make my list and my points, but all of the other women I have known and loved and hated are in there somewhere, too.

    A woman should appeal to you sexually, first and foremost, I think. She should look as good out of her clothing and make-up as she does in them...maybe better. My standard is 'how does she look fresh out of the shower, hair matted and dripping, perhaps a little snot-bubble on her nose?'

    Do you want to wipe off the booger and give her a good tongue-drying? Then she's a keeper.

    All distractions of retards aside, your mate should, ideally, be almost as smart as you, if not smarter. A stupid woman is a millstone around your neck, no matter how good she looks.

    It has been difficult to find a woman smarter than me. I met this wife in a university level anatomy class, where we were lab partners. The possible overall score was 300. I got 308, and she got 318. We were the highest scorers in the class, and were roundly despised for ruining it for everybody else.

    Being a product of some of the best public schools in America (Scottsdale, Arizona) she was nearly illiterate when we met. But she worked hard, and devoured books that I recommended, and fed ravenously on history that her school 'learning' had given her no inkling existed.

    Try this experiment sometime: If you find yourself in a group of twenty-somethings, just say "December 7th, 1941?" and raise an eyebrow quizically. If one of them says the right answer, good for them, but note all of the faces that looked blank, and how long it took for someone to blurt the correct answer, if indeed they did at all.

    Do not cut a heifer from that herd. Move on.

    So, there anything else? Some people say their family is important. I do not.

    Love your family, if you can, but set them aside if they interfere with your mate. I told parents, my kids, everybody, that I loved my wife better than them, and that if they didn't like it they could kiss my ass, and that her enemies were now my enemies, and you do not want to be my enemy.

    It is far easier to set aside an annoying family member (or two) than to put up with the bullshit, and possibly lose the woman you love over it.

    So, looks? Smarts? is there anything else? If she's no good in bed, it's because you're no good in bed. There is no such thing as a lousy lay, just one you couldn't figure out how to get started. Heck, set the bitch on fire, but do something proactive.

    Giving a woman in her thirties her first orgasm is, while always thrilling, just fucking sad. I doubt that happens much anymore, what with all the magazines touting recipes for self-gratification and all, but I have always quietly mourned the waste of the best years of their sex lives for them. A bit.

    Can she cook? Who cares, you fat fuck. Cook for her, or eat out. That is one issue that is a damn waste of time and energy to fight over. My wife insisted on cooking for me when we first started getting romantic, when all I wanted to do was fuck. She had translated LaRousse's Gastrominique from the original French when she was a kid (now you can buy it on Amazon) and learned to cook by it. I was underwhelmed, but she has taught me a lot of stuff, and given me some pretty expensive tastes. I had never had Remy Martin VSOP with Benedictine before, for instance. And I'd been a damn bartender. Sad.

    Is that it? What about housekeeping? Oh, you lazy bastard, hire a maid. My wife is a clean freak, and I have to stop her or she'd wear herself out. I am training her to train the kids to do it. They have their whole lives ahead of them. I despise filth, but clutter never killed anybody, so lighten up.

    Age. Age is important, I think. I was 35 and she was 27 when we met. This has worked out for us. It might not have if I aged normally, though. You don't want to be an old wrinkle bag while noting that she's got the tits of a twenty year old, and knows it.

    Conversely, if you want some old broad, go fuck your mom. That's just creepy. Just because some matron turned your crank like you've never had it turned before doesn't make it love. That's doubtless lust, boy, and lust is not a solid foundation for a marriage. Unless she's rich. And has a bad heart. Then, okay, marry her, fuck like bunnies, and stock up on fire-crackers and joy-buzzers.

    A good rule of thumb is, I think, that if you don't want to get married at least as fiercely as she does, if not moreso, then don't get married. Don't just get married because you had that Sunday free, and she likes parties and to play dress-up.

    And if one of you wants kids and the other doesn't, you should probably part while you're still friends.

    I say 'probably', because I knew and my first wife knew damn well that I hated kids and never wanted kids, so she told me she was pregnant from behind a barricade, where she had plenty of running room, and I took to it immediately. I was a 100% Father in about half a second. She thought she had broken my mind. I tell you this as a cautionary tale. Attitudes can change in the twinkling of an eye, so never trust one right away.

    Conversely, if the woman does not ever want kids, and says so, you may have a problem, since that is probably the only valid reason to get married in the first place. Date her, live with her, but I counsel strongly against marrying her.

    I think that's it. Some of you will say that being a Christian is important. Well, it kinda is, but you can gain that or lose that just like any other attitude, and that's nothing to base a lifetime commitment on.

    And I think that's the key word, right there...commitment. If you cannot see yourself wiping this woman's ass when it looks like a dried apple and shits a fresh burst of pea soup over your fist, while her teeth float in a glass on the bedside table, you didn't have a fucking clue as to what 'til death do us part' meant, now, did you?

    And lastly, don't marry a bitch. A bitch is forever. If she is snotty to the waiter, raises hell in traffic, and mean to some of her 'friends', especially behind their backs, run. Or keep fucking her. But do not marry her.

    Beauty may be skin deep, but bitch goes all the way to the bone.


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