Understanding Men —without That Messy Lobotomy

There are three official ways to understand a guy. You can be a guy; but even then you have a 50/50 chance of success because you wouldn’t really care. You can spend a lifetime with a guy but that would take, well, a lifetime. Lastly, you can do a complete and thorough lobotomy. Understanding that it is a tad messy, I have done it for you. Yes, I have decomposed a guy’s psyche and will share my findings with you. And, just to be fair and unbiased, I am a guy who exhibits most of the same qualities described herein. So, you may take this little piece as a confession of sorts for all mankind. Sorry guys—the pressure was too much. I rolled.

I performed a pre-frontal lobotomy on my best friend Marvin as we were having coffee; he did not notice because the game was on. I selected Marvin because I had noticed that he had almost all of the qualities of every man that I had ever met; ergo, what I would find within his head, would therefore, be found in every other man’s head—albeit in slightly different degrees. Do not think for a moment that I took advantage of him because he was my bud—on two prior occasions; I had attempted such an act on myself but had failed just as I had when I tried to grow a beard. Alas, I digress.

I peeled back Marvin’s psyche, careful not to mess his comb over and peeked within. Now I share, for your confidential use only, the findings of Marvin’s decomposition.

I unfurled Marvin’s peapod, that part of the brain that handles attentiveness and listening. I found that it actually shrinks to the size of a nit after the third time he has had sex with you. This confirms my theory that, except for early dating, sports trivia and work related foobar, guys are oblivious. It is their natural state when it comes to relationships. All guys. If you think that your guy is not oblivious, then let me assure you that he is faking his attentiveness to cover up the fact that he has not become oblivious yet—a sure warning sign that this relationship has not progressed and will soon be over. I forgot why I was there and decided to move on.

I tiptoed passed Marvin’s unconscious and heard the faint echoes of a samba party. I followed the beat of the congas and peered in; the unconscious was not as unconscious as the name would imply. I kept my distance and detected a strange but familiar odor. As I suspected, it was the scent of guilt, which is actually a by product of the multiple fantasy worlds within which guys reside. I was careful not to make direct contact with Marvin’s guilt for fear of contaminating my own guilt which I had cultivated since my first intimate encounter when I was thirteen; ok, fifteen. Seventeen and a half; and that’s the end of that discussion.

I concluded what I had long suspected; all men are guilty, always. It is not his fault and it is not necessarily what he has done; it’s what he thinks he’s done (combined with what he has done and the three things that you suspect that he’s done but hasn’t, yet, and probably won’t, maybe). Of course, much of his list is fantasy anyway and much of his guilt is without merit—but that matters not. Guilt is like stubbing one’s big toe; you know the pain is imminent. For guys, guilt is like stubbing his brain.

I peeled back Marvin’s stuff closet which occupied about two thirds of his cranial mass and found all sorts of vestigial matter including an old lawn chair, some baseball cards and a pack of cigarettes with only one cigarette in it which he obviously had been secreting until you left town and the unconscious hosted a retro disco party. There was obviously nothing going on here until I stumbled upon Marvin’s sharer node, that controls, you know, sharing. I tried to remove it but he held it securely and would not let it go. I assured him that I was only borrowing it like I would his lawn mower should he ever have one and I would return it intact. He reluctantly released it—it was a small delicate thing. I do not think it had ever been used. I studied it and placed it back gently, should he ever need it again.

I concluded that guys are always selfish. Think about it: when was the last time he (or any guy) offered you a taste of his lobster. Again, free and unabated sharing only manifests itself in the early stages of the relationship (see oblivious). Guys cannot help their selfishness—it is inborn—a natural and secure state. In fact, they look at your need to share as a strange and aberrant personality trait. That is; if you wanted lobster, why didn’t you order it? Alas; they are willing to put up with your deficiencies—as you should be with theirs. Order your own lobster.

I concluded that guys would not be selfish if they were women.

I paused to reflect that the evidence clearly showed that early man may have once been attentive, guilt free and totally unselfish. Now these qualities lie among the vestigial; perhaps through lack of use. I wondered if they could be once again awakened. Until then, men will remain oblivious, guilty and selfish.

I closed Marvin up just before half time. He wondered why his head was bothering him and I assured him that he would feel better when the pizza arrived. He smiled.

By Glebe
Author of: Points
the relationship guide for people who don’t like relationship guides
www.GlebesPoints.com