There are some surprising men’s explanations of what testosterone does to them and the influence it has on their genitals. I believe them. (After all, someone had to think up all the jokes).
These are their tales.
My gay friend David (always a good source of masculine yarns) is adamant that when a woman walks into a meeting, every man in the room mentally assesses whether he would fuck her or not. Not only that – but there is also a kind of mental ‘sub-text’ going on, and every male in attendance knows each others’ verdict. So, completely unknown to every woman (not just the pretty ones) who walks into a room full of men - a group vote is taken on her fuckability (and gay ones often outed).
All without uttering a single word (or even exchanging glances).
My second example also relates to testosterone but in a different way. When our average Jo walks into a pub, he scans the room and mentally picks out his threats, his safe places, who is the most popular and who would be worth chatting up.
All in about five seconds.
Whilst most men I have spoken to agree with this basic description, they have different ways of describing it. For one man, the scan was just “coloured lights behind his eyes” with big red hazes for threat areas and glowing green for safety. Others look at the eyes or the hands or the ‘vibe’ from each section of the room.
Yet another example of the difference between the genders is walking down the street. Women have known for centuries that men perve at them, yet we are shocked when we learn our doting mate is actually mentally assessing the bonkitude of not just you but every woman he ever sees. (Show me a lifelong mentally monogamous man and I’ll show you a pig with wings.)
Not just the young pretty ones, either – he especially likes sluts – the girls most of us try hard not to look like. Curvy girls in low-cut, tight-bummed, short;-legged with bad-blonde hair are often much more appreciated than the tall, thin chick in Manalos.
Men in comas still get erections in the morning. Any nurse will tell you that.
Some men have described older age as “losing a monkey off ones’ back”. Yet even if it does snow in the basement, the fire often roars on regardless in the attic (much to the misery of his 80-year wife).
(If you don’t believe me, just ask him to deny the above and swear it upon his mother’s life.)
Are we cutting off our noses to spite our faces? He can’t help it. It’s how mother nature made his chemicals and how biology intends him to act. We are risen from apes, not fallen from angels. Asking him to cross his legs is all very well in the name of love, but are they really happy?
To me, love is about respecting each others’ needs above our own. Sexual exclusivity is a (mostly) female requirement and one that makes us a vulnerable tormenter. Our men (whether we like it or not) have sex on the brain and sex is often only about “getting my end wet” (as several have pointed out). Sex is pressure relief NOT intimacy.
Many women believe it is intimacy they truly crave – the wining, dining, kissing, spooning, holding, touching, hugging and murmuring. For them, it’s not about fucking the slut in the street.
Women have confused sex with love. We confuse sex – which is an action for men – with love – which is a feeling for men. We have done the apples-and-oranges-thing.
If they cheat on us, it doesn’t mean men don’t love us. In fact, it probably just means they weren’t getting enough. For good or for bad, negotiating some type of infidelity with him puts us in a good bargaining position. A woman granting sexual privileges is a lot more powerful than one sitting at home wondering why he’s late home from the pub.
It might also be the most empowering thing you ever did.