There has been a last minute change of plan to this week’s blog, I’m afraid. Now I’ve never been one to be political but it seems I have opened up a hornets nest. Something I’m going to have to talk about further.
So I’ll begin.
Day – Saturday
Venue - Pub
“Sorry I’m late…..” said Stan looking at me slightly tense, “had to pop into Boots” making a point of waving the carrier bag at me, so I could see his purchases for myself.
I smiled and nodded acknowledgment of what he was showing me. Having had the approval he needed, he relaxed his smile and sat down,
We’d all congregated in the pub to watch the footie. (I just go for the community spirit)
Stan was the fourth guy of my mixed group of friends, that had made a point of showing me his weekly toiletry purchasing.
Each and everyone so far, walking in, looking like a schoolboy nervously clutching a bag of marbles hoping to impress their school teacher.
Their problem – they were scared to be seen as a SISM. (smell in summer man)
Since last week, all of them had upped their grooming regime, drastically.
When I said use deodorant, I never expected this kind of paranoid hysteria.
Stan had a look on his face that desperately oozed ‘I’m not a SISM! Please don’t write about me in your blog…Hey, let me buy you a wine…large?’
For the record - When I wrote about SISMs it wasn’t in reference to my boys who are more than nasally acceptable. (Hence why I choose to spend time with you gits in the summer months.)
However, there have been others who, to my shock, have come out in defence in SISMs…
Que Terrence, a flatmate of one of my friends. He’d found himself at a lose end and was joining us for the afternoon.
Now Terrence can be described two ways:
1) Men would describe him as a bloke’s bloke.
2) Women would describe him as a Neanderthal.
When Stan walked in with his lotions and potions, you should have seen Terrence’s face. Sat there, all horrified, his expression oozing ‘Toiletries? For a bloke? What are ya man, French?’
“This is how a real man smells” Thrusting his smelly arm pit in my direction, “Get a whiff of that, pure animal magnetism.”
Funny how its only guys who have no chance of ever getting a girlfriend who say stuff like that.
“That is NOT how a man should smell!” I retorted in disgust.
But it is alleged that guys like Terrence do actually have a point.
According to the laws of nature, I should not have reacted like I did in the club last week.
Apparently (and yes I am using the word apparently because I think the scientist have got it wrong), so apparently, there is something in men sweating that gives women the urge to mate with them.
Hmmmmmmmm
Out of all the things mother nature could have done to man to make him attractive to a woman, she makes him pong.
This is part of nature’s big attraction game? If that’s the case, then I’m missing a trick.
“Its part of nature,” Terrance informed me.
So I’ll begin.
Day – Saturday
Venue - Pub
“Sorry I’m late…..” said Stan looking at me slightly tense, “had to pop into Boots” making a point of waving the carrier bag at me, so I could see his purchases for myself.
I smiled and nodded acknowledgment of what he was showing me. Having had the approval he needed, he relaxed his smile and sat down,
We’d all congregated in the pub to watch the footie. (I just go for the community spirit)
Stan was the fourth guy of my mixed group of friends, that had made a point of showing me his weekly toiletry purchasing.
Each and everyone so far, walking in, looking like a schoolboy nervously clutching a bag of marbles hoping to impress their school teacher.
Their problem – they were scared to be seen as a SISM. (smell in summer man)
Since last week, all of them had upped their grooming regime, drastically.
When I said use deodorant, I never expected this kind of paranoid hysteria.
Stan had a look on his face that desperately oozed ‘I’m not a SISM! Please don’t write about me in your blog…Hey, let me buy you a wine…large?’
For the record - When I wrote about SISMs it wasn’t in reference to my boys who are more than nasally acceptable. (Hence why I choose to spend time with you gits in the summer months.)
However, there have been others who, to my shock, have come out in defence in SISMs…
Que Terrence, a flatmate of one of my friends. He’d found himself at a lose end and was joining us for the afternoon.
Now Terrence can be described two ways:
1) Men would describe him as a bloke’s bloke.
2) Women would describe him as a Neanderthal.
When Stan walked in with his lotions and potions, you should have seen Terrence’s face. Sat there, all horrified, his expression oozing ‘Toiletries? For a bloke? What are ya man, French?’
“This is how a real man smells” Thrusting his smelly arm pit in my direction, “Get a whiff of that, pure animal magnetism.”
Funny how its only guys who have no chance of ever getting a girlfriend who say stuff like that.
“That is NOT how a man should smell!” I retorted in disgust.
But it is alleged that guys like Terrence do actually have a point.
According to the laws of nature, I should not have reacted like I did in the club last week.
Apparently (and yes I am using the word apparently because I think the scientist have got it wrong), so apparently, there is something in men sweating that gives women the urge to mate with them.
Hmmmmmmmm
Out of all the things mother nature could have done to man to make him attractive to a woman, she makes him pong.
This is part of nature’s big attraction game? If that’s the case, then I’m missing a trick.
“Its part of nature,” Terrance informed me.
THOUGHT PROCESS AT TIME.
So are alligators…but you wouldn’t find me going coo-chi-coo to one.
Not all elements of nature are to be embraced. Not that this argument holds much water with the likes of Terrance. He was convinced he could talk me into it. What did he expect me to do? Go ‘Oh okay, I’ll train my nose to adapt.’
“You’re just saying that in your blog because of modern influences. When man first started on this earth, then it would have been a different story for you women.”
THOUGHT PROCESS AT TIME.
Oh hell no!!!
Oh hell no!!!
I can tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, if this was billions of years ago and I was joyously skipping around my cave room trying to figure out which animal skin to wear that day, (Oh please! Like I’d be any different to what I’m like now!) and some hairy arsed caveman came trundling along, reeking of sweaty onions and a glint in his eye that said ‘hey baby, how about it? Fancy being dragged back to my cave by your hair?’ He’d have been bitch-slapped on his way, regardless of how many boars he could catch and store for the winter months.
I expect a certain level of grooming. And basic hygiene.
WARNING FOR MEN - BO will not make a woman want to mate with you.
It will get you female attention, that’s for sure. But you won’t get to take her home.
Guys, if you want to catch a woman, take it from me, repeat the mantra - grooming, hygiene, romance…. grooming, hygiene, romance…. grooming, hygiene, romance….
No comments:
Post a Comment