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  • WJ King

Well Played

The more complex the study of people and their social/sexual interaction is, the more simplistic it’s revealed to be. As a prominent member of academia, I could go to great lengths to bore you with data, sociological studies and enough drivel to turn you to drink. However, what has been, is presently and absent any apocalyptic event shall remain as the determining factor of relationships is sexual conquest Smacking the old girl in the head with your club and dragging her off to your cave has evolved to sharing cocktails, both lying through your teeth about your marital status and having your way with one another.


I do not apologize for my ever so slight leaning to the analytical side of analysis and freely admit it’s hindrance when meeting, love at first sight saps. Some time ago, when people had face to face and unmasked situations, actual touching was all the rage, I had this exchange in a neighborhood tavern:


Me: I think you are delightful to talk to.

Her: And I, you.


Me: I think your ass could be a couple sizes more to the svelte side.

Her: Most would disagree with you and find my ass, most tantalizing.


Me: I think you’ll concur, tacking on a couple cup sizes would only enhance your charm.

Her: Agreed.


Me: While we’re talking…

Her: You do know, that roll of quarters in your pants pocket isn’t fooling anyone?


Me: Well played.

Her: You’re not very tall are you?


Me: Give us another drink.

Her: I’d say, maybe 5’7”?


Me: You’re a stupid whore.

Her: Uh, huh, would you like to finish this drink and go to my apartment.

This is referred to as a win-win proposition. An interlude, happenstance or any occasion culminating in orgasm is an automatic win column entry for the male but knowing full well, this was a female manipulated proposition, data must be accurate. Much like an over the road trucker, two sets of books are kept. One for reality and the other to bolster the male ego.


I’ve alluded to my propensity for all things analytic. This allows me to separate myself from the bruising reality of sexual intimacy and/or explaining my quarters are in readiness of an emergency phone booth call to Bolivia.


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