Men Are From Mars

In my lifetime, whether it is my own experiences, the experiences of others, what I have observed in everyday life, television, movies or the news, I have noticed a theme. Men can be and ofttimes are both persistent and very direct in their quest for sex. Why?

It’s because we’re hard wired that way. As the drones of the hive, it is our duty to perpetuate the species and we don’t care about preliminaries, we don’t care about small talk, we just want to spill our seed and move on to the next available female. As the old saying goes:

If a man isn’t having sex, he’s talking about sex.
If a man isn’t talking about sex, he’s thinking about sex.
And if a man isn’t thinking about sex, he’s dead.

We guys are always up, we’re always thinking about it even if the motor is only in idle. When I hold the door open for you, yes I’m being polite but it also affords me the opportunity to check out your backside, to look over those legs. When I hold the chair for you then assist in pushing you closer to the table, yes I’m being polite but I’m also surreptitiously shooting for a glance down your dress, a brief look at your décolleté.

I was reading an article the other day written by a man who I thought was spot on in describing this phenomenon. He said that we can’t necessarily be friends with women because no matter what, we’re always checking them out. It was all quite funny and serious. Neighbours, colleagues, somebody at a counter, somewhere in the back of our mind, we’re going through the list: how’s the figure? Nice face? What’s her chest like? What about the legs? There may not be the slightest chance in the world of ever bedding her but we’ll go through the checklist anyway.

I know from personal experience that I could have finished one of the best love making sessions of my life; what man could have asked for anything more? 30 minutes later, I may take out the trash, run to the store for milk or some such innocuous thing and there I am looking at some woman walking by in the street thinking to myself, "Hmmm, nice bod". Even I have to give my head a shake sometimes: "What the heck are you doing!?!"

High School

High school for me represented a testing ground for not just social interaction, but for social interaction after puberty. It was here that I, like every other male at the school, tried his hand at you, the fairer sex, me that fumbling, inexperienced boy trying to get his hand in your bra.

I believe it was during the 3rd year that I began to realize something while examining not only myself, but the behaviour of my friends and acquaintances. We seemed to be spending an inordinate amount of time, energy and money attempting to… well, for lack of a better word, get laid. Hormones gone wild seemed to be the order of the day.

In mulling this over, I began to realize that our behaviour was very much governed by our sex drive. I started asking myself about what would we all do, what would all boys do if we took away the sexual urge? Would we still chase that girl? Would we still ask the girl out? Would we still spend our money to take her to dinner?

I’m going to say something I know will be considered just a tad bizarre, but here goes anyway. At the time, in talking this over with some friends, I wondered out loud what we all would do if we all masturbated before we went out chasing girls. The idea was to remove the sexual urge from the equation and make our relationships or our search for relationships about the person, not just us trying to score. I return to those previous questions. Would we still chase that girl? Would we still ask the girl out? Would we still spend our money to take her to dinner?

At the time, it struck me as an interesting idea but also as a more practical idea. In the long run we would be spending a lot less time, effort and money on things… well, girls who really didn’t fit into our long term plans. We guys would save our money and those girls would be spared having to put up with us trying vainly to get into their pants… er, panties. Seemed like a win-win, no? 🙂

There’s Something About Mary

Years later after high school, I saw this movie during which one guy explains to another the benefits of masturbating before going out on a date.

Dom: You choke the chicken before any big date, don’t you? Tell me you spank the monkey before any big date. Oh my God, he doesn’t flog the dolphin before a big date. Are you crazy? That’s like going out there with a loaded gun! Of course that’s why you’re nervous. Oh my dear friend, please sit, please. Look, um, after you’ve had sex with a girl, and you’re lying in bed with her, are you nervous? No, you’re not, why?

Ted: Cause I’m tired…

Dom: Wrong! It’s ’cause you ain’t got the baby batter on the brain anymore! Jesus, that stuff will f*** you’re head up! Look, the most honest moment in a man’s life are the few minutes after he’s blown his load – now that is a medical fact. And the reason for it is that you’re no longer trying to get laid, you’re actually… you’re thinking like a girl, and girls love that.


I laughed but not just because the movie was funny. I laughed because this was exactly the idea which had occurred to me all those years ago when I was in high school. Obviously other people had seen the wisdom of removing the sexual urge from the equation.

The point of all this is to admit right up front that we guys are just plain nuts. We are "hard wired" to have libidos built to propagate the species: good for the species, bad for relationships. It is quite beyond… well, almost quite beyond us to control ourselves. It has gotten us and continues to get us into all sorts of hot water. 

Bill Clinton

What would possess arguably the most powerful man on earth to risk his job, the presidency of the United States over… well, some oral sex from… what? An intern who in my opinion wasn’t even the best looking flower in the garden? Heck, Bill probably could have had his choice of just about anybody: I’ve heard power can be a powerful aphrodisiac; but he ends up with some minor player? What!?! Why, Bill, why?

The stupidity of the gamble is exemplified in a headline I read once where some guy walked into a corner store, shot and killed the clerk then walked out with 50 bucks. 50? Heck, if you’re going to kill somebody, do it for a million bucks maybe, but 50? Are you nuts? The reward in no way matches the risk.

In Bill’s case, the reward could have in no way matched the risk. Believe me; no oral sex is going to match the hot seat Bill had to sit in. Never mind the humiliation in public; never mind the impeachment by Congress, what about having to face Hillary? [chuckles] I’m surprised that man still has testicles.

If Bill had followed the There’s Something About Mary counsel, would he have had a dalliance with Ms. Lewinsky? If he had removed the sexual urge from the equation, would he have seen any merit at all in doing anything other than an innocuous nod in a hallway in passing some minor employee at the bottom of the White House ladder?

Yes, I know about Bill’s other involvements: Gennifer Flowers and Paula Jones. Yes, I’ve heard the rumour about Bill getting counseling for a sexual addiction. Nevertheless, I think if Bill had followed the prescription of a pre-date visit to the men’s room, he would have had time to "think twice" clearly and without the befuddlement of the male brain suffering from an insufficient blood flow.

Groucho Marx

1974, when he was 80 years old, Groucho Marx gave an interview to Playboy. I’ve never forgotten 2 particular points he made.

The first one is funny. The journalist interviewing Groucho, points to the various awards and honours that Groucho and the Marx Brothers had accumulated throughout their careers and asks Groucho what he thought about them. "I’d trade them all today for one good erection".

The second was serious. Groucho talked about himself and the brothers were "always chasing skirt". It was their obsession to always be going after the girls. Now at the age of 80, this desire was gone and for him, there was a certain liberation from being the slave to his sex drive.

I’ve never forgotten this 2nd point having realized myself that yes, we men are the slaves of our sex drives. You women are the target, the goal, the only thing which will do and we will move heaven and earth to get you.

George Burns was a charming man whose career was renewed at quite a late stage of his life, in his 80’s and his 90’s. He was popular with the women and was always being photographed with someone. When asked why he seemed to be so popular with the ladies, he replied, "It’s because they know I’m harmless." Seems like a fair statement. Notice how the movies will sometimes portray one of the girl’s best friends as being a gay guy? No risk of being attacked.

Hard wired to propagate the species?

I’ve been digging around trying to confirm this, but many moons ago while studying psychology, I remember reading an article in, maybe, Scientific American which described the following 2 tests.

Test #1: A ram in heat was put in a pen with a sheep. The ram attempted to copulate 7 times in 1 hour.

Test #2: A ram is put in a pen with a sheep. After the ram copulates with the sheep, the sheep is removed and a different sheep is put in the pen. The ram attempts copulation 14 times in a half hour.

7 times an hour vs. 14 times in a half hour? Wow!

We may be nuts… but I think we know it.

I once had a job in a downtown area, the financial district. Everybody worked in offices, in big business. As a consequence, the usual style of dress was suits for guys and classy dresses with heels for the gals. Everybody looked sharp.

One day, a colleague and I, a couple of "older farts", were out on a terrace having a coffee break and were naturally, watching the chicks go by. At one point, an unusually attractive young lady walks by and I lean over to my friend and say in a quiet tone, "Hey Dennis. Look at that woman over there. She’s wants it… [pregnant pause] … just not from us."

We both burst out laughing. Yes, we can’t have you all, but we can dream!

Lampposts

How many times have I walked into a lamp post? How many times have I just missed a wall, skirted a fire hydrant or bumped into somebody and then had to express my most profuse apologies. Why? Because I’m trying to catch a glance of a beautiful face, a nylon leg, a pair of high heels or an attractive neckline. You go by and my neck turns my head so my eyes can track their target like an armed forces heat seeking guided missile. It’s all runs automatically, I don’t even have to think about it.

Geez, the embarrassment I have when I’m caught doing it. If it’s a guy who catches me, he smiles, he understands, he probably will look at the woman himself. If it’s a woman… well, I’m thinking I’ve shown myself as being a major perv whose name should be put on a list somewhere so that women everywhere will be able to avoid me.

But…

I return to my original point. Yes, we men are hard wired. Yes, we may be slaves to our libidos. But, with experience, comes maturity and with maturity, comes a realistic look at life. Risk has to be measured against reward. Longevity has to be measured against… what’s temporary, those cheap thrills.

The author Robert Louis Stevenson is credited with this quote:

To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.

The meaning of which is: Hope and anticipation are often better than reality.

Any man who is smart will fully understand this saying and the lesson held therein. Fantasy is a wonderful thing but reality is reality. Yes, it’s nice to enjoy that fantasy but do not always think that whatever reality rests at the end of the fantasy will ever match the fantasy itself.

We men need to think things through; calmly; with a cool head; and preferably without that sexual urge clouding our judgement. Yes, there may be a fantasy or two locked back in some dark corner of our minds. Yes, our heads turn when a pretty girl walks by. It’s just that we should always remember the lesson from High School, the lesson from the movie There’s Something About Mary: spank the monkey before any decision. Be totally rational with a head not deprived of an adequate blood flow. 🙂

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