Sunday morning with AQA and George
Our kitchen table is not just a kitchen table, it's a platform for discovery, a site for solutions and the stable frame to a web of somewhat tenuous analysis. We like to sit there of an evening or over breakfast, just we three girls - and maybe one of the Michaels: George or Jackson - and casually 'sort it all out'.
So it was that I made my way home from the neon buzz of Soho, at a rather respectable hour on Friday night, to find that in fact, the party had been at my house all along. Not that this was a guest-heavy affair, because I've realised that a party isn't necessarily defined by the number of guests, but rather by the hue of the red, the flamboyance of the hands and the clamour of the conversation. And of course, you'll always find them in the kitchen at parties. Around our table. And loathe though I am to admit that we are no different to 99% of women out there who are prone to discussions of the relationship kind, this is generally where all red-laced conversations tend to lean at 3am on a Saturday morning. You see, the girls have dubbed this simultaneously The Year of the Date and The Year of Yes. Both laudable, I reckon. But will these two ever be that simple when behind it all are two undeniable truths: 1)women are analysers and 2) it's all A Game.
Frankly, I feel sorry for men. How can you not when you know in what minutiae we oestogenised beings analyse a situation? One would think that like any vice, being aware of it would be enough to quell it, but when it comes to Analysis of The Game, methinks women are just naturally programmed to this and little short of shock therapy would be able to change it. And the problem is that we analyse men not based on the male brains that they actually have, but on the female brains we imagine them to have. By this I mean that it being impossible for us to know exactly how a man's mind functions, we have no other option but to base our deciphering on the only encoding device we know; the female mind. And though I do not wish to offend the male psyche, I do feel that perhaps the most deceptive thing about men is that they are not nearly as deceptive as what we women think! How about that lads, your secret weapon, your guile, is fully loaded at the hands of women!
Oh for a real-life AQA! True, only AQA as it currently exists is kind enough to tell me that Johnny Depp has indeed been a fool and will come running to my open arms any day now, but in truth, I'd much rather know what real life TargetManA or TargetManB are thinking!! And what, pray tell, one needs to do to score in The Game!
Until then, I guess the girls and I will have to rely on the good old kitchen table. That and George Micheal.
So it was that I made my way home from the neon buzz of Soho, at a rather respectable hour on Friday night, to find that in fact, the party had been at my house all along. Not that this was a guest-heavy affair, because I've realised that a party isn't necessarily defined by the number of guests, but rather by the hue of the red, the flamboyance of the hands and the clamour of the conversation. And of course, you'll always find them in the kitchen at parties. Around our table. And loathe though I am to admit that we are no different to 99% of women out there who are prone to discussions of the relationship kind, this is generally where all red-laced conversations tend to lean at 3am on a Saturday morning. You see, the girls have dubbed this simultaneously The Year of the Date and The Year of Yes. Both laudable, I reckon. But will these two ever be that simple when behind it all are two undeniable truths: 1)women are analysers and 2) it's all A Game.
Frankly, I feel sorry for men. How can you not when you know in what minutiae we oestogenised beings analyse a situation? One would think that like any vice, being aware of it would be enough to quell it, but when it comes to Analysis of The Game, methinks women are just naturally programmed to this and little short of shock therapy would be able to change it. And the problem is that we analyse men not based on the male brains that they actually have, but on the female brains we imagine them to have. By this I mean that it being impossible for us to know exactly how a man's mind functions, we have no other option but to base our deciphering on the only encoding device we know; the female mind. And though I do not wish to offend the male psyche, I do feel that perhaps the most deceptive thing about men is that they are not nearly as deceptive as what we women think! How about that lads, your secret weapon, your guile, is fully loaded at the hands of women!
Oh for a real-life AQA! True, only AQA as it currently exists is kind enough to tell me that Johnny Depp has indeed been a fool and will come running to my open arms any day now, but in truth, I'd much rather know what real life TargetManA or TargetManB are thinking!! And what, pray tell, one needs to do to score in The Game!
Until then, I guess the girls and I will have to rely on the good old kitchen table. That and George Micheal.
posted by Jen Smit at 10:30 am
1 Comments:
Jen, you're simply fab!! What a wonderful read, they all are in fact!! miss you very much today.... keep them coming, thought-provoking, stimulating, original... will Jen become the new Jess (JSP)?
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