Whilst struggling to get into the arms of Morpheus last night, my left-sided brain was undertaking a review of the year. As in all good publications and other media. That, somehow, took me into fate; just what is pre-ordained, can it be altered or managed. From there I slipped into people and circumstances I had known. This long introduction is necessary – bear with me.
Relationships have always intrigued me. How did a good bloke like him end up with a dog like her? Why is that partner faithful whilst that partner runs around like a multi-dicked dog? Long while ago I knew someone who, at first sight, had nothing going for him where relationships with women were concerned. He paid little attention to his appearance; long lanky hair, generally a five o’clock shadow and a stranger to deodorant. His interest in daily life was reflected in his lack of serious conversation.
But, where Tom Jones has women throwing their under-garments at him, this guy had them folding them neatly and laying them at his feet. He was a walking babe-magnet. Ugly women with ‘personality’ were drawn in just as much as their sassy blond sisters. He himself did not know what it was that made him irresistible. Any rumour about his – er - erm physical qualities was just that – a rumour with no basis in fact. Once in the web, everything was sexual activity and attraction. Back then, this was extremely unusual to see acknowledged.
As a balance, I worked with someone who was really a Greek God stranded on earth. Just so very desirable as to make some men doubt or be scared for their heterosexuality. He attracted almost no women. They worked with and for him OK but there was never any sign that any of them ever wanted to pass beyond a working relationship. His wife – who, until seen, one would expect at least Ursula Andress, was a overweight woman with a slight moustache and irregular teeth. He seemed perfectly happy in his state and, whilst not avoiding female company, seemed almost genderless.
I started to wonder what made his marriage work. In just these two men we had a strange situation. One had great sex and a sad sort of life. The other appeared to have a great life balance but, to all intents and purposes, a bedroom life with few charms or attractions. Even the whole of the Anne Summers catalogue could not have changed that.
On the verge of this momentous scientific finding, I finally fell asleep.
Bored myself into it you might say.