Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Reasons to Love the Metric System

I'm not sure why, but I've always opposed the metric system. Perhaps it’s because it uses measurements that I just don't understand. For example, what is a kilogram? Exactly, nobody knows outside of math majors and a couple of snooty, crepe eating, beret wearing Frenchmen living atop one of those idyllic hill towns in Provence that nestles around the Mediterranean and reeks of Fromage de chevre aka goat cheese.

However, my views may have recently changed, as I was speaking with a friend (NOT ME) who confided in me that he was only packing five inches (Again it’s NOT ME). He was afraid that his girl might leave him for a guy with a little more substance and wanted some advice. After our laughter, alright my laughter, stopped an hour later, I had an epiphany. Sitting down at the computer I googled "five inches" and was shocked to discover that in the metric system my friend's embarrassing measurement transforms into a pu-nanny slaying, lung puncturing 12 centimeters! I told him to throw out his old rulers with their inches and proclamations of inadequacy, because tonight he could proudly tell his girl that she would be getting the full 12.

Apparently, the full 12 centimeters isn't as appealing as I had first thought, because a couple weeks later they had broken up. He says the split had to do with personal reasons and not the fact that he's hung like a baby field mouse born three months premature, but who knows the truth. Before you start feeling too badly for him, you should know that my boy is already dating a new girl he swears will be the one he marries, which has really pissed me off and is no doubt going to set me off on another diatribe.

So here it goes: The best rationale I have heard for marriage is that once you attain a certain age and all your friends break off into pairs, it’s inevitable that the urge to mate will spring from sheer boredom. The transition from young and single to ancient and undesirable can take place overnight, and the reaction it spurs occasionally makes forging a relationship with another human being feel as though it were some sadistic game of musical chairs, where the music has stopped and everyone has begun scurrying for that last open seat. This final chair, perhaps once frequently overlooked, has suddenly become much more inviting, as the change in circumstances have made its availability alluring in a way it couldn’t be three years earlier. No one I know wants to find themselves in the midst of the mad scramble for that final empty seat, nor do they want to be that broken down chair covered by a thick layer of but sweat and plagued by a sunken middle and crusty edges, so they grab the best available seat and cling to it for dear life.

And this is why there are problems down the road my friends. Nature is nothing if not cruel and ironic, for the longer you spend with your women the more she will want you and the less you will want her. This fate makes the Black Widow, who devours her mate immediately after the courtship ritual, seem kind, because at least she doesn't prolong the agony, whereas in humans, the man will get bored sexually, and then his wife wants to know why they have become more roommates than lovers. Faced with this situation, he will do what men have been doing for centuries; he will lie to her, always, often, and completely.

Today's lie de jour for men is that he's impotent and needs to see a doctor, as explaining this is far easier than even the mere suggestion that the lack of passion might come from the fact he no longer finds his wife appealing in that way. Men will pop drugs with names like Viagra, Cialis, and Levitra. It doesn't matter that these drugs have side effects or were probably cooked up to breed farm animals. In reality, the drugs could be labeled fast acting Ebola and most men would prefer taking them than having to tell their wife the truth, ie that there is nothing wrong physically and after fifteen years even the idea of bending Phyllis the neighborhood bag lady over her shopping cart sounds pretty damn appealing.

I am not married yet, but statistics show I probably will be some day. And when I am, and my wife is yelling at me for not taking out the garbage while simultaneously trying to consume a tub of mashed potatoes, I will scream impotency at the top of my lungs until a task force of pharmacists breaks through the windows of our bedroom, hands me a few pills, and gets me so drugged up I could play major league baseball, or, if that doesn't work out, have sex with my wife.



1 comment:

Roseykrh said...

Wow, that almost makes me want to marry you. :)