Women’s Genius & Insanity
If you had access to a hidden camera strategically placed at my home over the last three days, you would have been baffled by a strange behavior that may have seared your eyeballs. You would have been treated to a view of me going about my daily affairs in the dignified manner traditionally expected of a De Greek, only to suddenly see me jumping three feet into the air like a young gazelle being attacked by a cheetah on the plains of Africa, with a girlish scream escaping my cherry coloured lips each time this happened.
The reason for this is that throughout the last three days, at the most unexpected and inopportune moments, my wife has been grabbing my ass. She says that it is hers and she can do with it as she wishes. Go figure.
There may be loony houses stuffed with what medical men, uncaring of accuracy, may technically call the insane, but women in general are the only ones deserving the title. I can state unequivocally for the benefit of my female readers that male dignity is a sensitive plant which nourishes only under the fairest conditions and such conditions do not exist in a house where the male of the species has to be in constant guard of his ass.
The reason for this shameless exhibition on the part of my wife is poetry. As most of you will know by now, my friend Feline Prophet and I do not have a poetic bone in our bodies and we could not write verse if our life depended on it, but we can shamelessly plagiarize with the best of them. So having come across a poem by Tennyson, I printed it on a piece of paper and stuck it on the refrigerator for my wife to find. I even put Tennyson’s name at the bottom, so you cannot really call it plagiarising.
We fell out, my wife and I,
O, we fell out, I know not why,
And kiss’d again with tears.
And blessings on the falling out
That all the more endears,
When we fall out with those we love
And kiss’d again with tears!
It is an indication of the insanity of the female of the species that since she saw that poem taped on the refrigerator, she has not given me a moment’s peace and my life has ceased to be my own. There are now black circles around my eyes because, besides the ass grabbing, when we go to bed she cannot go to sleep unless she lays her head on my chest and wraps herself around me. The De Greeks may be men of steel, but we have our limits, so we end up giving in to temptation with the result that we loose our beauty sleep and we end up with circles under our eyes.
We men are simple creatures and are easily confused. One day your woman will look upon you as a God, a male specimen that puts to shame all other males since time immemorial. She may refer to your snoring with a gentle dreamy look on her face, the same look you see on a mother when she looks at her new-born child and say how much she enjoys staying up half the night listening to your snoring. In fact she may even go further than that and say how well you sing in the bath. Yet the very next day she may look upon you as something that the FDA has condemned with shocked horror on its face, while wearing double layers of its infection proof uniforms.
Now I must stop for a breather here, for the simple reason that I have often given offence to various people with my writing and I do not wish to do so again. So I shall not continue this story to its end. I shall wait for comments from you lot to see whether I have gone too far again, or whether you want me to continue. Of course you may not give a fig about hearing the end of the story, but that in itself will be an indication on whether I should seek another occupation more suitable to my abilities and talent. In any case, Green Lotus put me up to it, with a comment she made on my last hub, so it is not really my fault. Blame her.