Coupling.

I am fully aware of the current notion that the male and female of our species come from entirely different planets in the galaxy, reportedly Mars and Venus respectively.

It may be true that there is a gulf of understanding between the sexes, although we do share an x chromosome with the distaff members of our human family. This allows some hope for peace in the barnyard but alas they lack a y, which we men proudly sport and so we are forced to go back to square one in the genetics department in terms of our mutual understanding.

***

My wife Leslie is very personable. People like her and wish to be in her presence. She likes to laugh and have a good time. She is an exceedingly loyal person who will go through a brick wall for a friend or a husband for that matter. Beautiful, competent, smart, the total package.

**

Leslie and I know a lot of single women. Wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, single women.  I also happen to know a lot of single men. On occasion I have tried to play matchmaker and it seldom if ever works. Interestingly enough, most of the women have given up on thoughts of being in a relationship, Leslie says that her friends prefer to stay single. Anyway not to belabor this but I find something curious about the whole equation.

My male friends pester me to set them up but they want the most ridiculously idealized notion of womanhood. She has to be skinny. Boobs. No boobs. Oriental. Nordic. Compliant. Dominant, whatever. They are all looking for drop dead gorgeous. Now I was lucky enough to get that, knock on wood, but it wasn't the first criteria.

I had a friend who was looking for a skinny broad recently. "I can't shtupp a fat girl, Robert. You got to know somebody." I wanted to pull out a pocket mirror and say, hey take a look fellow, what if she puts you on a scale? But that critical self observation never seems to enter into the picture with a guy. Are we not the most myopic bunch of assholes?

I put a and b, two other lonely passengers on life's love boat, together to see if something might click. Later I asked her how things went. "Well great if we count listening to a guy talk about himself for two hours without giving me a chance to speak a great time." Urp, I thought. No good deed goes unpunished.

Are men really that shallow? Is the shape of the package really so important? The greek philosopher Ovid once postulated that if you were ever perchance to run into two women at the same time to form your tryst with the less attractive one, she would supposedly be exceedingly grateful for the rest of her days.

I know a lot of men that have to be emotionally stuck in some bizarre high school psychodynamic and they are either still trying to nail the cheerleader or the cute little freshman. All form and seemingly little substance. I am told that the reason that old lechers dump their wives around the mid century mark is because they don't have to relate fairly or communicate much with the new, young arm candy, and Lolita is cool with the benefits she gets with the deal as well.

It's all beyond me and I have pretty much given up on the matchmaking thing. And it is a shame because I know so many cool women. But you guys are a bunch of putzes.