The writings of Oddpoet

I’ve been get­ting numer­ous let­ters ask­ing when my next inci­sive write on that human carwash/minefield or gaunt­let of extreme human mis­ery, the rela­tion­ship between men and women. As always I lead the charge into bat­tle and bear the scars of con­flict to min­i­mize your expo­sure. I could enti­tle this write the Meat Mar­ket, but that would sound too cyn­i­cal, and as you know I am not a cyn­i­cal man. What fol­lows is the opti­mal rela­tion­ship age to max­i­mize chances of suc­cess. So let’s jump into it, shall we?

The Des­per­ate youth (20’s late 20’s)
Men and women in this age range are like the unformed seed pods in the inva­sion of the body snatch­ers. Why talk about them, so let’s move on.

Men are easy they have a very short shelf life, about 32 to 34. Women should always go after a younger man; it’s your best bet. After 34 we are useless.

The opti­mum age for women, I was going to be a prick and say 35 years 22 days to 35 years 25 days and tell you there is only a three day win­dow. But some of you will jump out a win­dow. So let’s say lower to mid to upper thir­ties. It’s at this age they real­ize Romeo is a myth and if you think about it who would want Romeo. Some dweeb out­side your win­dow every night wear­ing leo­tards, play­ing a real bad lyre toss­ing thee’s and thou’s your way. You will not under­stand a word he says and he is wicked annoy­ing. Besides he will not even make love to you. You want to get laid and he would say shit like, “I wouldst sooner watch the essence of my life’s blood bleed into the bar­ren earth then peel the ped­als of thy beauty.” You would be say­ing “Peel Mother Fucker peel.”

Mov­ing up the men’s age range we get to my niche the mid to upper 40’s into the 50’s. We fall into two cat­e­gories the barely tol­er­a­ble and the “Did you see that dude?” The barely tol­er­a­ble which is my place in the food chain real­ize the chicks they are inter­ested in are not inter­ested in them. It’s dur­ing this time the idea of a really good sand­wich takes on almost myth­i­cal pro­por­tions. Prior to this age you would day­dream about bang­ing that hot chick in the frozen food sec­tion of the shop­ping mart, now dreams of real crisp Ital­ian bread and imported Ital­ian lunch meats are the means to very large erec­tions. Also, expen­sive elec­tronic devices, doesn’t mat­ter what they do as long as they look cool and beep and flash a lot.

The next group are major tragedies the “did you see that dude?” group. These guys exist in their own bub­ble of unre­al­ity. The guys with the comb over or the jet black spray paint unsuc­cess­fully hid­ing the bald spots. And the donelaps, yea, their stom­achs done lapped over their belt. This group see them­selves in a per­pet­ual state of tran­si­tion, they buy very large cloths and huge belts declar­ing to the world, “Yea I look like this now but soon I’ll be young again. To them it’s about the jour­ney never the des­ti­na­tion. Amaz­ingly they are per­fect matches with younger woman, some kind of syn­er­gis­tic sub atomic par­ti­cle can­cel­la­tion thingy.

Older women are a diverse group rang­ing from very cool to “The Wart” Very cool needs no expla­na­tion. The wart is really, well, clingy, the kind of chick that will call you 25 times a day and ask you what you are doing. Yea, they call in the mid­dle of the night, just so they can hear your voice, WTF? “Are you sleep­ing Eddie?” “Fuck no, I’m hunt­ing big game on the Serengeti, lucky you caught me, we are being attacked by mutant lions and we ran out of ammo, I’m sharp­en­ing my machete as we speak. Looks like I’m about to die, I’m so glad you called.” How­ever, Warts are adapt­able. Women are the ulti­mate guerilla fight­ers, while men will fall on their swords, women retreat, blend into the land­scape and gar­rote your ass in the dead of night.

This is the cliff note ver­sion of the write a more schol­arly treat­ment will appear in the New Amer­i­can jour­nal of card car­ry­ing psy­chopaths, June issue. Now keep in mind I’m rap­ping gen­er­al­i­ties here, prob­a­bil­ity. The amaz­ing thing about the species is its vari­abil­ity. “Yes it might be true the race does not always go to the swift, or the bat­tle to the strong, but that’s the way to bet.”

Let’s see a nice tuna melt with some jalapeño and mozzarella…

This entry was posted on Monday, March 15th, 2010 at 2:48 pm and is filed under Humor, Prose. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.