If we got to vote in terms of evolution, I would put in a request that in the future women come with tails.
No I do not mean that women are, in the Trump sense, dogs. No, no, no.
It's just that I honest to God have no idea what the hell it is that women actually want virtually most of the time and quite personally I think it would be of tremendous value if they came with a pooch-like indicator that would reveal to we guys, aka "the weaker sex," as to exactly what the hell their specific feelings are.
For example, I come home after a long day and I see a woman's tail wagging like a jacked up giddy metronome, I know precisely what her emotional temperature is and quite frankly enormously tickled to be home.
I would then expect her to jump on me, lick my face and get me to feed her. I would also use the word "fetching" to her in the form of an appearance compliment as opposed to indicating the entire retrieval procedure of that evening's New York Post.
I repeat: not comparing women to dogs.
Now if I come home and that behavior measuring rear appendage is hanging like at sub-floor level, that will speak volumes to me.
I would pretty much expect a low guttural growl, canine teeth about to be bared and the possible transference of rabies.
Emphasis on point: not comparing women to dogs. I not going to do any doggie style position jokes, tempting as it may be. And the fact that women often howl like a poodle who just fell into the toilet during orgasm is nothing more than coincidence I assure you.
But let's get real here.
Relationships always begin with puppy love so how far off am I?
Plus some love to go on walks...or as they call them, "hikes." Most of the women that I have dated personally and privately enjoy the belly scratch and chewy toys. Yours don't? What the hell kind of woman are you dating? Wait did I say women? Men. Men go for the belly scratch and occasional aborted attempts at licking their own balls, because frankly if that Yoga-like position was ever achieved, every single one of us would never have a reason to ever leave the house, shower or eat
Women: who are rarely super attractive during periods of overnight unconsciousness love sleeping on their backs with their legs and arms upwardly splayed...and curiously during awake hours, love cats to the extent that it biologically makes no sense. Plus I gotta say, women: often very catty with other women, especially if the woman is a cow.
Disclaimer: I'm not comparing women to cats. I'm just offering up a few thoughts for your consideration.
Women: also unusually loyal. I swear to God if I fell into the deep end of let's say the local swimming hole, most women would pull me out with their teeth and whimper like Lassie with a wounded paw until I spit out all that water from my lungs.
They will also take an enormous amount of shit from us, pick it up with a plastic man baggie and throw it away. And yes there is also just so much shit that they will take from us before they smack us on the snouts with the rolled up Arts and Leisure section of the Sunday New York Times.
Now oddly enough women do not like it when we men act Iike dogs.
It is true that I often have daydream fantasies of humping, say, Kate Upton's leg like a high strung chihuahua and somehow women know this. How I cannot say. We also tend to slobber, especially when we sleep, like Butkis of Rocky fame. So much so that we could literally fill a million Ancestory.com mailable tubes on a nightly basis.
Women also do not like when we act like pigs yet have no problem whatsoever consuming a four gallons of Chunky Monkey directly from their strap on ice cream feed bags. Evidently the great Oprah encourages this practice but I have no confirmation of this at the time of this writing.
Women also hate it when we act like a horse's ass which I have to admit we often do. Especially when accused of behaving like a pig or dog.
A snake in the grass? Yup: yet another comparison that we Adams deserve.
Many of us are known card carrying slitherers. And chickens. We guys are also very proud of our cocks and love showing them to you women as often as possible.
Think of this act as us showing you our baby pictures.
If we chose to cat around, trust me, we will be selling few tickets at the cat litter box office of the heart.
Okay, what say we throw all the cards down and just say anything that Old MacDonald had we should not be.
Any of this can be avoided by simply adding a tail to a woman. Do you honestly not get this?
Think of it as a furry baton that would both conduct and inspire us towards a world of perfect harmony.
Now you could say: should not men come with tails as well? And the answer would be a resounding no.
You see, our behavior is often so blatant and boneheaded wrong that the tail would be a useless add on like the protective coating the dealership always tries to gets us to buy. We do not need that ever.
A half bottle of SPF 50 lotion will totally do the trick while assuring that your car will never gets melanoma.
You hand to God in life do not need an additional cherry to float uselessly atop a tall cherry soda as the sheer overwhelming presence of cherry does not require that particular embellishment.
I mean how much flavor enhancement does one really need?
Okay. I gotta go. I am suddenly in the mood for a little heavy petting.
And for that I have to beg. Roll over. Beg. Beg.