Pop quiz, hotshot.
It’s a delightful Wednesday evening in the big city and everything seems right in the world. You’re sitting at a restaurant with your fiancée and three other beautiful women when your tranquil and pleasant life is suddenly and unexpectedly threatened. Having been ignoring the yip-yapping of the female conversation to give your full attention to the delicious meal in front of you, it takes a moment before you realize that the entire restaurant has gone quiet.
Too quiet.
Turning your head slowly towards the women, a thin string of hot-as-lava cheese stretching from your mouth to the piece of pizza in your hand, you realize that they are all staring at you with very angry, evil and merciless looks in their eyes. You can only imagine that this is what a wildebeest must see right before the lions rip out its throat. Quickly looking over your shoulder, you swear you can see a hooded figure with a scythe standing there.
And it’s pulling a bony finger across its skeletal throat.
Quickly swallowing the burning bite of pizza that now is as tasteful as a mouthful of ash, you ask, “What’s up, ladies?”
“Oh, nothing really.” One of them replies, smooth as silk and deadly as a knife in the gut. “We were just discussing men and their preoccupation with stupid and disgusting things.”
Swallowing hard, your eyes scan the area for an escape route as your mouth spews out a phrase you memorized as a child when your dad loaned you his copy of “How To Delay A Dangerous And Angry Female Until You Can Make Your Escape From A Most Assuredly Deadly Encounter: For Dummies”.
“Are those new shoes?”
“No. And stop trying to avoid the situation.”
Stupid, stupid book.
“As the only man here, we’d like to know your thoughts on the subject of our discussion. And you can stop scanning the place for exits, there’s only one door out and you have to get past all of us to get to it.”
Thinking fast, you come up with a plan that has never failed you yet.
“Well ladies, I’d love to give you my thoughts but right now I fear I need to use the bathroom…”
A guy at the next table turns around and whispers, “No go, buddy. The bathroom’s in the back and there’s no exit. I already tried.”
He looks miserable and his date looks smug as she continues explaining to him, in exacting detail, everything that had transpired at her office that day. Including the horrible cramps she silently and stoically suffered through during her two hour meeting.
Stupid, stupid restaurant.
Turning back to your tablemates, you sigh in defeat and resign yourself to a fate worse than death.
“Ok, ladies. You got me. Do you want to slit my throat and watch me bleed to death, or would you rather I poke myself in the eye with this straw so you can take turns sucking the life out of me?”
“Stop being so melodramatic. All we want is for you to answer a question for us. Honestly and truthfully.”
Oh. Crap.
“We were just talking about my ex-boyfriend and how he swore he never looked at pr0n. Even after I found a Playboy hidden under his bathroom sink. He swore he’d never seen it before and that it must have been his ex-roommate’s.”
Is that all? Whew!
“Well ladies,” You say in relief. “Obviously, he was lying. Men love pr0n. And even if it was once his roommate’s, it was his now and you can be sure he knows each of the women on those pages. Intimately.”
“So you’re saying that even though we were dating, even though he had me to be with, he still liked to look at pr0n?”
“Ladies, men like pr0n. It’s hardwired into our DNA. All men look at pr0n, they need to. And even if a man hasn’t looked at or purchased pr0n in a long time, every man will one day succumb to the base need to rent Assmaster 14: In Through The Out Door at least once in their life.”
As the women all look at each other and smile, your stomach does a swan dive into your lower intestines. Something is wrong.
“So you’re saying that all men look at pr0n? Even men, who are shall we say, engaged?”
Too late you realize your mistake. It was a trap all along.
Looking across the table at your fiancée, you can see that she now has a feral look in her eyes and is giving you a lazy smile as if to say, “I wonder how much I can pawn this ring for?”
What do you do, jackhole? What do you do?
Admit it proudly, as if there weren’t the slightest thing wrong with it. If you don’t show shame, they can’t hold it over your head. Invite them over to share in some wholesome American pr0n with you. Promise snacks. Offer color commentary during the exhibition.
Once they realize they can’t use it against you in any personally humiliating way, they’ll drop the subject.
Then, it’s just a matter of waiting for the opportunity to get even.
Of course, I’m single with no prospects, so take that advice with salt to taste.
Women are evil.
Men are stupid.
It all balances out, rather evenly. Unfortunatly, there are many men out there not willing to admit that they’re stupid and many women out there not willing to admit that they’re evil.
Man I hate being a woman.
I wish I had an answer to that question, but I have no major problems if a guy enjoys pr0n on occasion, so I don’t understand the “female” perspective here.
And, upon occasion and in the right company, I’ve enjoyed pr0n on occasion as well.
Oops. I’ve shared too much, haven’t I?
I’m still looking for the exits…
i say create a diversion by tipping backwards in your chair until the center of gravity is no longer over the legs and you fall on your back. after that, if they dont feel sorry for you, the conversation should at least change direction.
I’m entirely with David on this one, and not being single, I can honestly say it works.
There’s nothing to be ashamed of, and if she doesn’t wish to join you in enjoying some good wholesome pr0n, you get to turn the tables and call her a prude.
girls like a good deal of it too, y’know… they just don’t fess up. ;)
Tell the “women” (who apparently are acting like children) that if they cannot accept that most men’s visual acuity is used also for basic se&ual stimulation., they need to either grow up,join a convent, or become “lesbi&ns” (which again would become a catch 22 situation where men could find that last option erotic).
Women who utilize the method of “setting up” a helpless male for group prosecution are trying to “compensate” for something and apparently have no singular life of their own.
would it be a situation I would find myself in (similar top that brought forth for topic discussion) I would simply ignore them and continue eating.