Man Going His Own Way by Bernard Chapin

Author:Bernard Chapin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3
Published: 2016-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

A woman’s physique is the

eternal dividend you receive

for investing in an extremely

disorderly company.

Without the legs, without the derriere, without the breasts, without the stomach you are left with an organization whose books are in complete disarray. Without the chassis, no man would finance an entity facing liquidation and unruly creditors. An obese woman is akin to a firm whose CEO just got jailed. That stock is going to zero. Keep pretending it’s not a problem and you may well become the next Enron.

When the curves are gone there is no reason for a man to stay. Do you want to be condemned to living in close proximity with a woman whom you dread seeing naked? I don’t. If it’s a choice between that and isolation I will take Devil’s Island any time.

In my opinion, sex is either good or bad depending on the woman’s build. If her form is excellent then the sex is excellent. I am a simple man. I do not need them to do much of anything. If the shape is right it is a fine night! Conversely, if her body is terrible then I will never know what the sex is like because I would fly back to my exurban enclave beforehand.

I grant that many would say I am missing something with my sexual evaluation. Yes, there are many other variables, but I am the sort of fellow who can entertain himself. A healthy infrastructure equals big fun.

I once had a friend try to justify why he did not mind that his wife had turned into a cottage cheese dowager. He said, “A warm hole is a warm hole.”

I stared at him as if he were insane. “Jack” I said. “Now you’re lying to both of us. You know that is not true. What would stop you from having sex with men or even ostriches if that were the case? Why are you trying to deceive both of us?”

He made no comment. Jack knew that what he said was preposterous, but he hoped to convince himself otherwise.

Additionally, I have noticed that over the years all of the women I went out

with made some sort of comment about how “they did not want to lose me as a friend.” They considered me to be an exquisite conversational companion. The feeling did not run both ways. I was not their friend. My feelings for them were as conditional as their feelings were for me.

How can you be friends with someone who confuses criticism with hate? A “friend” is a person with whom you can speak to frankly. That has not been the reality with most of the women I knew. I always had to address them carefully and with a mental editor on hand. You are not allowed to redirect a woman in any way yet they expect to help run your life.

Who wants to be around a bunch of people with whom you have to walk on conversational glass? That is not a friendship. That’s an ordeal. You cannot be amigos with a person you have to treat “special.

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