As I have said time and time again, formidable is the individual whose construction was overseen by XX chromosomes. Scholars, philosophers and idlers have applied themselves from time immemorial to the problem of understanding the woman.

They failed.

It is no coincidence that in Chess the Queen has free reign over the board while the lumbering King is somewhat hobbled.

 

And yet even today we have misguided individuals believing fondly that they have mastered the daughter of Eve. Futile is the effort to convince them otherwise.

A classic example is my lad we’ll call Jimmy.

Jimmy is one of these armchair philosophers convinced he has his finger on the pulse of everything relevant to contemporary existence. He believes that given sufficient time, he will understand the female in her entirety.

I am reminded of a situation quite some time back that he came to renounce his convictions and join my fellowship.

We were at some amorphous gathering, whose place, time and purpose I cannot immediately recall. I was with the (at the time) missus, Michelle, and he was with his, let’s call her Carol. With us was another good lady whom we shall call Helen.

Before I proceed, a side note: one of the first things a wise man with token knowledge of the female should know, is that when it comes to dealing with women, they are like Pirates Of the Caribbean, or Lord of the Rings, or the Matrix. Granted, they always make things hum, are generally exotic and will keep you coming back for more, but those are not the only parallels that can be drawn.

The parallel I wish to draw your attention to is that you will generally have to deal with them in threes. There will always be two friends to contend with. This is more the case when the relationship is at the stage just before “and then there was light, and the garden of Eden”. This was precisely the situation with Jimmy and Carol.

Carol was Jimmy’s target, and he was just about to cross the finish line. But in the process of wooing Carol, he was forced by some weird Female Code of Conduct © ™ better known as the FCC © ™, to impress Carol’s best friends, which happened to be Michelle and Helen. You understand I’ve not actually read the FCC, nor would I wish to. One Pandora is a Pandora too many. But from what I gather is that prior to you securing the affections of Miss X, you must be thoroughly vetted and approved by friends of X, Y and Z, hereafter known as the 300.

This is not optional. Failure to go through with this time hallowed torture agony rite of passage will mean that you will end up playing solitaire with yourself because even your computer will have nothing to do with you. If you want to secure the pearl, you must also secure the friends of pearl.

This was especially the case with this trio. Boy did the 300 make me jump through hoops! If I were a Persian general, and given the choice between these three and 1000 of the original 300, I would take the original 300 any day.

Well read intelligent women in addition to knowing about Maslow’s triangle and supply and demand, also know things like Chinese water torture and psychological warfare.

But I digress.

Despite my persistent warnings, Jimmy was convinced that he not only had Carol down to a T, he also had Michelle and Helen down to the same. As I privately appealed passionately to him to humble himself minutes before, I described his attitude as catatonic foolishness. I might as well have tried to appeal to Njenga Karume with a copy of Einstein’s Relativity: The Special and the General Theory (Penguin Classics). Smiling kindly at my naivete he grabbed my arm and gently pulled me towards the door, mumbling something about us being late.

It was not for long before Jimmy’s tapestry began to unravel.

Some chap, with a polite excuse me, passed between our little group and went on his way.

Helen, the unattached one, spoke thus:

“Wow! Who was that?”

As an old hand reading danger in the air, I surreptitiously took a few steps back. So surreptitiously that my feet did not actually move. I then grabbed Jimmy and attempted to pull him back.

But he would have none of that and shrugged off my hand and stepped close to the trio.

“I don’t know,” Michelle said. “But I’ve seen him around a few times.”

“Odd looking but cute I suppose,” Helen said thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Carol agreed heartily, she then turned to Michelle and received a nod of agreement. Carol then turned to Jimmy to get his opinion. Michelle turned to get mine but by that time, after much experience, I was an old hand and I was already crouched and hiding behind a dustbin.

Jimmy stared back bluntly.

“What?”

“Well, what do you think of that guy? Don’t you think he’s handsome?”

Jimmy threw back his head and his laughter shook the leaves of the trees.

“What a preposterous question!” The fool scoffed smugly. “You’re asking me … ME … if I find another man handsome? Of course not!”

I whispered a quick prayer for my foresight and for Jimmy’s fate as he plunged headlong towards his doom.

The trio came closer.

“So,” Michelle said with the sweet voice I knew very well was the precursor to a finishing move (Mortal Kombat fans will understand that one), “What you’re saying is that he is ugly?”

“Yes. I mean … er … ” Jimmy said comfortably, but with that much less bravado. “All I am saying is that I can hardly be expected to have an opinion on another man’s looks. I don’t go around looking at people and classifying them as beautiful or not. For God’s sake, these are people, not pieces of meat. Besides, beauty is not black and white. You know what they say … one man’s … er … meat …”

“Uh huh,” Carol absently put her hands on her hips in the classic battle stance. Upon hearing her voice I pulled up my knees, put my chin on them and tightly grabbed my head the way they tell you to to it in the event of a plane crash. “You of course realize that if you think he’s ugly it says something about my taste in men. About you actually. Are you telling me I have poor taste?”

“No no no!” An edge of panic had crept into his usually suave voice. “That’s not what I meant at all, you have impeccable taste. Truly first class!”

“What, for instance, do you think of Michelle? Do you think she’s beautiful?”

The silent scream of warning I let out was only heard by dogs in the next yard. Having set up the noose, Jimmy proceeded to put his neck in it, step off the bucket and kick it away.

“Michelle? Oh absolutely!” The fool gushed. “Quite, quite so …” His eloquence faded as he suddenly noticed that they were smiling at him very strangely indeed.

Jimmy was suddenly under a devastating barrage of fire.

“I thought you said  people were not pieces of meat,” Michelle said kindly.

“Yes, and I thought you said beauty is not black and white … what colour is it now?” Helen said smiling.

The shot that downed Fort Jimmy came from Carol herself.

“And for exactly how long have you been looking at Michelle and how long did it take you to classify her as beautiful? Are you still classifying her?”

Wild eyed and desperate, Jimmy looked around for a friendly face. I resolutely crouched further behind the bin. It is not a light decision to forsake a brother in his hour of need, with three cock crows echoing around him.

Discretion, after all is the better part of valour. Wise men know which battles to pick and which to run screaming from.

Suffice it to say it was a much humbled Jimmy that emerged from that exchange much later.

As we departed he drew me aside with new found respect.

“Dude,” he said with a tremor in his voice. “Teach me, O master. Enlighten me in the ways of the M. How the hell do you always manage to not be there when things become sticky?”

“Simple my son,” I said kindly to him as we walked (considerably) behind our significant others. “The first step is realizing that you must always avoid combat. Why? 11 times out of 10, if you are in a battle with a daughter of Eve, you are in a losing battle …”

PIC/GROAN OF THE DAY

I’ve been laughing at this for the past half an hour =))

 

 Bone Thugs -N- Harmony – Days Of Our Lives