So there I am sitting in a funky trendy Cape Town bistro off a cultural square near "the mountain" bru... Fact is - it's hard not to see the mountain from the City Bowl - probably impossible actually.
The Capetonian tardy timekeeping bug has already established the day's ethos with a lacklustre attitude by a local car rental concern making me run late for my first meeting. Well, they didn't actually make me late but that's not the point. It was compulsory to bitch: I have Joburg fever and that calls for Teutonic precision - Swiss clock timekeeping. For a while at least. After rooibos tea, a scout of the project site and a rude video clip, played on the state of the art audio visual equipment, to kick off the site meeting, I am all out of Jozi paranoia. We'll survive the day despite a fifteen minute delay and just maybe we'll have time to go to lunch. Wow, lunch - away from your desk?
And the only female meeting attendee was politely asked to leave the room for the screening of the quirky, strip show with a twist: this self same female now confessing a love of porn and exhibitionism coupled with an all-consuming desire to experiment sexually in any way possible with her man, a partner who clearly doesn't rise to this challenge as much as she would like.
Why is it that when men are young, spotty, stupefyingly single, raging with testosterone and available, they are numbingly oblivious to sexual signals from the opposite camp like nasally challenged moths tumbling through a pheromone storm? Dumb assholes who don't deserve a functional todger and the inevitable post-pubescent long-playing diamond-hard erections!
Yet when you mature (or in the man's case - have flashes of seriousness in between your usual puerility) and are committed to a monogamous relationship, the pheromone receptors are flipped on as if by some cosmic switch - it must be linked to a milestone in the standard male life project plan - Task 187 "Monogamy Attained" this a predecessor for Task 69 in the new micro project plan you hadn't even opened until then - "Ability to receive all and any sexual signals from opposite sex".
And by some twisted divine retribution, convincing me consumately of God's femininity, you field the signs and innuendos, the coy glances and fluttering lashes, the lingering hand on a shoulder, the unnecessary exposure of high class augmented cleavage at a business lunch and you cannot respond as you were prepared to do in scenario 1 when you were all ribs and dick with no brains or morals.
In fact, some virile adolescents are so tight skinned when they achieve a hard-on that their ribs open and close like a venetian blind as they press up and down on their manhood! Or blinking may cause their foreskins to move back and forth. Caught in a sandstorm they might wank themselves to death...
It's truly bizarre and altogether the wrong way round. And, no ladies, we don't all think with our dicks when the signals or offers are thrown our way, although some women would like to categorise all men in this manner. Some of us just sigh and say to the little crickets on our shoulders: "Typical - some asshole who has it all and doesn't know it..."
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