So here I am, embracing my mammoth singleness (and loneliness at times, I suppose) on Sunday night. Tucked in all nice, watching What Women Want.
Even though Mel is really at his peak, looking as good as ever exposing his perfect six-pack at least every 20 minutes, I still can’t focus on the movie. My mind is fully occupied by contemplations: what do women want?
While thinking to myself that I really know the answer to this question and still admitting that I would struggle to define it as a solitary thought, I tend to concentrate on different perspective…
I’m wondering is that THE problem? That men really don’t understand what women want. Is that the tussle that makes us feel so incomplete at times?
My thoughts totally take over so I end up not watching the happy ending of the sweet rom-com.
While I agree that it’s blatant that we are from different planets, I don’t understand why we, Venusians, don’t struggle to understand Martians, but it becomes a rocket science when it turns vice versa… It seems that understanding women for men is as complicated as understanding Mandarin for 2-year-old English baby.
(Miss Cynical Self enters.)
I veto this utter bulls**t!
I believe that men understand. Men understand what we (women) want. And at instances, when it becomes a wee bit more complicated, we are more than happy to explain.
If you’ll ask me straight I’ll be more than happy to share my desires.
(Miss Cynical Self totally takes over.)
I strongly believe that men understand. They understand, when they want to. The real problem is that more often than not they don’t wanna. They don’t want to understand because they can’t be bothered; because our desires are more complicated than just shagging and having beer in front of teli; because our appetites are bigger than most of male kind can feed…
I swear, this blog post doesn’t have to do anything with any particular individual. I am not having a go at any poor guy that couldn’t fulfill my neediness and keep up with my drive.
It’s just a general rant provoked by my lonely times, shitty weather and Mel Gibson being and absolute wanker for the first half of the movie.
Apologies to all decent male creatures.
(Miss Cynical Self leaves the room.)
I still believe there are some fabulous men on this earth.