At times I wonder what the average female of the species is actually thinking as she parades by what she perceives to be a dozen-or-so hungry males ogling her at any bus stop. Does she think most men are jackals, gleefully fulfilling a thousand-and-one fantasies with every step she takes?
Possibly. (This is my corporate reply). Or, as the Tasmanian Devil inside of me, would say, "Yeah-yeah-yeah!"
Are there two sides to every male? Heh-heh. Try three. Think of sly dog, Wile E. Coyote, Precious, the dog, and you'll be in the ballpark of figuring out that third side of us.
Perhaps this femme parfait -- perfect woman -- cringes in fear, as genetic memories of cavemen dragging their women to their caves, comes to light. Is this how most women view men? I mean, really?
As buzzards on a fence with smut magazines stapled to our foreheads? Or are we considered males whom will one day belong to some futuristic society where woman shall pick and choose men as they see fit, toss them to the wayside once they're through with them? Are women that heavily engrossed in such brain wave delusions of their eventual domination over their male counterparts? Anything to get even for what the average female thinks we males contemplate at the mere sight of one of them?
Again, possibly.
Continued
