Raw.

Perhaps it is because it is Friday that I have turned my thoughts to someone special. If you have not met her, I am so sorry. If you have, and you are a man, keep your mitts off her. And if you are a woman, yeah! she's all that and a million bucks!

Men are idiots when it comes to women. And that is a good thing. Life would be so much harder if we knew exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when and in what form. Life is hard when you don't have to try; it is why the War of the Sexes will never be worn; not when we are discovering new gender permutations we never thought possible a generation ago. Can you imagine what would happen if I knew what She meant when she said what she said three weeks ago especially in That Tone of Voice? I didn't. Thank God! because I am still here, She is still here, and I still keep on bugging the stuffing out of her.

Men are not as simple as they make themselves out to be, however. So She too has her fair share of surprises. Some are within the realm of the tasteful; most of mine have strayed so far from the tasteful line, I wonder if She is working on the most elaborate method of despatching me to meet my maker. I would blame he if she was; after all, it is so not cool for your attention to wander when you are with Her, is it? Not even when it is an armed robbery in progress; only She deserves attention, you hear?!

There are limits to how much bending and contorting to compromise that either of us are prepared to do. I suspect that men are prepared to bend over till they can kiss their own asses and then some more. Women, I am not so sure. That wackjob that got acid flung in his face clearly did not know that the limits his sugar banana was prepared to tolerate were hair-trigger short. She, by the by, seems willing to tolerate a lot. I on the other hand, keep finding new limits to get over. I can't say it has done my system of neurons any good; they feel, these days, like they have spent each second being zapped by steadily increasing voltages of electricity: RAW! But what can I say? I made a rather beautiful bed and only an Act of God is going to yank me out of it, bankruptcy, impeachment and the Hounds of Hell notwithstanding.