Men, p.2
Men, page 2
French men
A French man’s love is like his central heating; it may keep you warm, but is nothing more than hot air. ‘The poetry of your soul is in your eyes’ is just French for ‘You’re ugly – but it’s late so I’ll shag you anyway.’
French charm is like mayonnaise: you definitely need something else to go with it.
Italian Men
Italian men are fluent in body language. They have the gift of the grab. He’ll ask you up for ‘coffee’, but it’s coffee in perverted commas.
Swedish Men
This is the sort of guy you could write home about – if your parents are into vodka chasers, flavoured French ticklers and doing it standing up backwards before a video camera.
Australian men
Romance Aussie style – an Aussie boyfriend once said to me, ‘You’re like toilet paper. It’s the difference between scratching your arse and tearing it.’ I looked at him, perplexed. ‘Rough dunny paper’s a dime a dozen. You are softest Sorbent.’ Maybe that’s why I fell for him. He was such a smooth-talking bastard.
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Their humour is drier than an AA clinic. When I asked one boyfriend why he didn’t show more emotion, he replied sardonically, ‘Oh, you women. You want to be told how much we love you over and over again . . . At least two or three times a year. It’s bloody exhausting.’
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Most Aussie men are emotional bonsai. You have to whack on the fertilizer to get any feelings out of him.
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He’s uncomfortable with public displays of affection. The only thing he’ll ever have his arm around in public is a beer glass. But there’s a romantic streak in him. Buried. Like a seam of gold.
Despite the Croc Dundee image, most Aussies are urban dwellers. So don’t fall in love with him because of his supposed outback ingenuity. The only way most Aussie blokes can make a fire by rubbing two sticks together is if one of them is a match.
Gay men
Coming out of the closet is a very courageous thing to do. It can take a man a long time to admit that he’s strictly dickly. Hey, better latent than never. But do watch out for early warning signs. If your boyfriend can name non-standard colours and drinks soya decaf, he’s probably a player of the pink piccolo. If the only stiff thing about him is his upper lip, then there’s a good chance he’s a vagina decliner. His motto will soon be ‘Ditch the bitch and switch.’
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It’s the 21st century – behind every successful man is the Other Man.
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If you discover that your bloke is coming out, don’t try to push him back in again. Men never go off the gay and narrow.
Different expectations
Women want love and marriage and happy-ever-afters . . . Most men want a ‘meaningful’ one-night stand – preferably with 7 bisexual hookers.
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The way to impress a woman: tenderness, caressing, talking, devotion, trust, truth, togetherness.
How to impress a man:
1) Turn up naked.
2) Bring a naked double-jointed supermodel who owns a brewery and has an open-minded twin sister.
3) Wrestle in jelly.
Bad dates
Always best to go out on a few dates before committing to a weekend. Better you find out how boring he is now and not while on a walking tour of the Lake District.
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Always remember, most men are like worms, only taller . . .
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When dumped, this is your mantra: ‘All Men Are Bastards and Evermore Shall Be So Unless They Are George Clooney Who Is Crumpet.’
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The only type of man you’ll want to meet after a bad break-up is the one doused in petrol and with a stake driven through his heart.
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If you meet a man who belittles his ex-wife – ‘I do have an ex-wife, worst luck. Though you’re welcome to refer to her by her real name: Spawn of Satan’ – a few responses occur simultaneously:
1) Why can’t you see his electro-convulsive therapy scorch marks?
2) How the hell does he fit his cloven hooves into those trainers?
If things reach an all-time high in lows, you can always give up on men and just become lesbian. It is only a slip of the tongue.
Men to avoid
So many men and so many reasons not to date any of them. But unless you want to get carpal tunnel masturbation syndrome you have no option but to date. As there’s a man shortage (most men seem to be married or gay, and the rest have a three-grunt vocabulary of ‘na’, ‘dunno’ and ‘errgh’), we women would be satisfied with a man who has his own hair and no visible body piercings. But there are some men who have no redeeming features. (At least Nero could fiddle.) As I’ve had every oddball known to womankind (I could have a direct line to Jerry Springer), here is my guide to men to avoid. Hey, why give yourself an experience you’ll have to pay a lot of money to a therapist to get over?
Avoid doctors
Most doctors are so terrified of disease they wear a condom while masturbating.
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His idea of sexual inventiveness is not to wear his plastic anti-contamination gloves. He’ll shower before taking a bath – in which he’ll use separate washcloths on different parts of his body so as not to cross-contaminate from one orifice to the other. He’ll gargle after oral sex. His body will be so sterile, a bacterium would die of loneliness. When making love, he’ll stop at timed intervals to check his own pulse and respiration rate. Post-coitus, like a kindly children’s GP he’ll probably give you a jellybean for saying ‘Aaaargh’.
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The chief medical officer should issue a warning that marrying doctors can be seriously hazardous to your health.
Avoid jargon junkies . . .
Who use words like ‘multi-tasking’ and ‘outsourcing’ and other buzzwords like, well, ‘buzzwords’. If he calls love an ‘on-site merger’, or an orgy an ‘off-site team-building event’, there’s little doubt he’ll call his wedding anniversary a ‘performance review of core competencies’, his children ‘pilot projects’ and the divorce you’ll eventually demand ‘emotional downsizing.’
Avoid famous men
A male celebrity thinks he’s irresistible; success goes straight to his cock.
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He keeps fit by doing step aerobics off his own ego.
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He’ll have love bites on his mirrors. He’ll go through the tunnel of love holding his own hand. But women will still leap on him as though he’s the last helicopter out of Saigon.
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He’ll be me-deep in conversation, singing his own praises for approximately eternity, before running through the history of his illustrious family since, oh, the Crusades.
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If you marry such a man, instead of ‘His and Her’ hand towels it’ll be more of a ‘Me and Me’ hand-towel situation. This is a man who suffers from high self-esteem. He’ll do his crosswords in ink.
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He’s so vain he’ll install a follow spotlight in his bedroom.
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He’s a braggart. If it’s no sooner done than said, then you’re sooner done with said bloke.
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Man: ‘So, what are you saying exactly? That I have a big ego?’
Woman: ‘Oh, is that what’s blocking out the sun?’
Avoid lawyers
Lawyers are workaholics – you’ll soon be suffering from subpoena envy.
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The trouble with living with a human rights lawyer is that you can never get the high moral ground. When I was first married and asked my husband to change a nappy, he replied, ‘But I’ve got 250 people on death row in Trinidad.’ What could I say? But after 4,000 nappies, I retorted, ‘Oh, let them die.’ After the second baby, I was like – ‘I’m going to go there and kill them myself. Human rights begin at home!’
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Answer carefully in all arguments. He’s a lawyer. He only needs another two signatures to put you away.
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Wife: ‘Um, actually, I don’t want your opinion . . . and neither does anybody else in this cinema.’
Lawyer hubby: ‘Don’t be ludicrous. I’m a lawyer, everybody wants my opinion. I’m paid £250 an hour for it.’
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He won’t be able to talk dirty in bed, because if he talks he has to charge.
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He’ll soon have you plea-bargaining for foreplay. And outlining all your sexual requirements in a counsel’s notebook in which he’ll write up a lengthy opinion.
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If a lawyer’s ego was hit by lightning, the lightning would be hospitalized.
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Lawyers have been at Oxford for so long they have ivy growing up the backs of their legs. And what they graduated in is Advanced Smugness. They have a Condescension Chromosome.
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Lawyers tend to drown in their own brainwaves.
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When you finally divorce, it won’t so much be the end of a marriage as Case Closed.
Avoid family avoiders
If you love your family, best to avoid a man who thinks families are like Brussels sprouts – a dreary duty to be endured at Christmas. You think blood is thicker than water, but he thinks – hey, so is eggnog.
Avoid married men
There is no etiquette guide entitled What to Do When Your Fiancé Is Still Married. Of course, you never know he’s married until you find the teething ring in his pocket, but by then you think love is in the air . . . Until it turns out to be the exhaust fumes of his sports car as he zooms back to his wife.
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Man: ‘Let’s make love . . . And yes, of course we’ll get married.’
Woman: ‘Really? But I think your family will totally object. As in – your bloody wife and children!’
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There always turns out to be a draught in his ‘open’ marriage.
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You’ll both have sex, but you’re the only one who’ll get screwed.
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To a married man, sex means no more than exercise. Naked yoga. A jog he didn’t have to go outside for. It’s no more intimate than, say, a Pilates class for two. You’re just a little something to break the monogamy.
When it comes to learning life’s lessons, don’t be a straight D student. Repeat after me. He’s never going to leave his wife.
Avoid hedge fund managers
To err is human, but to really fuck things up requires a financial adviser. Going broke saving money is certainly an interesting approach.
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Past a certain age, if you go out with a bloke and he has Van Gogh’s ‘Sunflowers’ on the wall, it had better be because he paid 30 bloody million bucks for it! But rich men are often chronically stingy. He’ll make you go Dutch at McDonald’s.
Avoid vulgarians
When a man likes movies with ‘Pork’, ‘Death’ or ‘II’ in the title it’s a sure sign that his underpants size is bigger than his IQ. (And we’re not talking well endowed.) If his opening conversational gambit is to crush a beer can on his forehead, it’s likely he’s the type to see alcohol as a major food group. Dating a man like this is as good an idea as, say, playing leapfrog with a rhinoceros.
Avoid men who like domestic goddesses
Any woman who says she gets high on housework has obviously inhaled too much cleaning fluid. (Definition of a ‘hostage’? A woman who has to cook for bloody visitors.) A real woman just dials her finger to the bone ordering take-aways or finds a toyboy who can cook. When you wish upon a Michelin star, dreams really can come true . . .
Avoid men who go out with models
Most models put the ‘cat’ into ‘catwalk’. Modelling could be learned by an advanced rodent. She’s little more than a sabretoothed tapeworm. Of course, the reason models are so mean is because they’re starving hungry. If they swallow a breadcrumb they think they look pregnant. They order one crouton for lunch – then share it. For a real treat, the woman might lick a sultana. Where do they keep their internal organs? In their handbags? They’re so thin, their pyjamas have, like, one stripe. I once saw a model eating solids. ‘I’m eating to compensate,’ she mumbled between chews.
What for? Hunger?
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A model will practically close a restaurant for serving whole milk in her skinny latte. ‘Are you trying to kill me? The cholesterol. OHMYGOD.’ A spritzer for her is half Perrier and half Volvic. The hypocrisy of only drinking flat mineral water to keep her inner self pure – while poisoning her system with Botox – is totally lost on her.
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What does it say about a man who would go out with a woman like this? That he’s had a DIY lobotomy, that’s what.
Avoid male models . . .
Who wear sunglasses at night, have sex on vinyl sheets and boast of their individuality, while looking identical. Male models only believe in one minority group – millionairesses.
Avoid girlfriend avoiders
Beware men who think that the only women who need girlfriends are lesbians. Girlfriends should have a pact to ‘never to let a penis come between us’. Men may come (the nights they don’t have brewer’s droop) and go but it’s your female mates who last for ever.
Avoid men with pick-up lines
(No matter how cute his buns.) ‘Hi babe. How ’bout a sixty-eighter? Go down on me and I’ll owe you one,’ etc. is a definite indication that he normally goes out with the sort of female you inflate by blowing into her toe.
Avoid men with fancy cars
Four-wheeled land cruisers scream ‘pretentious wanker’. Alfas say ‘rich pretentious wanker’. Ferraris, Maseratis and Lamborghinis? Well, they’re obviously tax-dodgem cars. But nothing speaks quite so loudly as a red Porsche. And what it’s saying is – meno-Porsche. His number plate should read ‘Midlife Crisis’.
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Never get into a car whose bumper sticker reads ‘God is my Pilot’. The dice dangling from his rear-view mirror will be loaded.
Avoid double-adaptors
Avoid the type who only tells you halfway through your amorous encounter about his operation. Sorry, her operation. At a gender realignment clinic. Basically, he’s shooting eggs into you. It pays to be more discriminating. Before going out with a man, always ask yourself one very important question: ‘Does he have his own penis?’
Avoid unemotional men
You’re not having a ‘relationship’. Just 365 one-night stands with the same person.
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These men confine affection to times of erection.
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He probably has a pet name for his penis. (A male preserve. I’ve never been informally introduced to a vagina.)
Avoid fat men
Trying to locate the love muscle of an overweight man in the dark is a little like attempting to land on an aircraft carrier in a hurricane without radar.
Avoid lazy men
If he’s currently looking for a job which has office hours from one to two with an hour off for lunch, your HMS relation-ship has a touch of the Titanics.
Avoid psychiatrists
Psychology is nothing more than a guess with a degree. There has to be something amiss in an industry where the customer is always wrong. Surely we can think of more fun things to do on a sofa?
Avoid criminals
He’ll pick pockets at your family reunions, believing that every crowd has a silver lining. He’ll go through your purse, believing that the change will do him good. If you want an off-beat record collection, go for classical, not criminal. Any children you have will follow in their father’s fingerprints.
Avoid pessimists
Such men have mastered the art of negative thinking. He has post-natal depression – his own. His blood type is B minus. He may even manufacture arguments because he likes nothing more than optimum brooding conditions. He thinks optimism is an eye disease. Eeyore-ish men see the bad side of everything. If he had his way, he’d be skywriting ‘There is no such thing as Santa!’ over Euro Disney.
Avoid the overly charming
The guy may be more disarming than a team of UN weapons inspectors, but it’s often nothing more than the art of genital persuasion. He’s friendly in the way an intestinal parasite is friendly. He’s a top-order predator – meaning he’ll say ‘thank you’ before spiking your drink with Rohypnol.
Avoid royals
They’re just the winners in the Lucky Sperm competition.
Avoid surfies
As surfie chicks, we folded their towels, bought their Chicko Rolls, minded their milkshakes, turtle-backed (‘Once you’re on your back, you’re fucked,’ the boys said) and got tan tattoos. The boys made us cut their names out of a sheet of paper, Sellotape it on to our tummies then sunbathe to get a tan tattoo in the shape of his name. If I ever get cancer I’ll have a melanoma called Bruce. I’ll have to undergo a Bruce-ectomy.
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A surfie’s party trick is to get drunk and set his pubic hairs alight.
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A surfie is a walking, talking life-support system to a wetsuit.
Avoid name-droppers
He should get his jaw rewired to allow even bigger names out. He’ll drop you too as soon as a bigger name comes along.
Avoid bikers
The bubonic plague would take antibiotics before setting foot in this bloke’s system. Every time he peels off a sock, the entire room will take on the fungal humidity of a fridge you accidentally turned off while away on holiday. Men like this could introduce a whole range of hideous bacterial organisms into your reproductive system.
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He won’t have been to the dentist for twenty years. When tongue kissing, he’ll get you to check his upper left molar. He won’t just have plaque on his teeth, but plankton.
