The Unbreakable Man Laws

“Ladies – Feed Me, F**k Me and Shut the F**k Up!”

by Michael “Leonidas” Childress 
Leonidas@unbreakablemanlaws.com

Admittedly, the title of this work, my sophomoric UML contribution, was hijacked from comedian Chris Rock and chosen specifically as a tool to lure you [fearless readers!] into the entangling web that is my Narcissism-spawned written discourse –  Beware the honeypot my friends!  I have found that the best way to craft an attractive compendium related to the “battle of the sexes”, or any topic for that matter, is to sucker punch the prospective readers with an emotive [see “anger” for this particular one…] title.  Now that my audacious attempt at a disclaimer for the material following this not-so-covert attempt to swoon you, the reader, has been swiftly dispatched let’s get on to the Cro-Mag goodness!

Sooo, I suppose at this juncture we should examine Mr. Rock’s declarative statement that is the impetus of this “treatise”?  On the surface it would be appear to be the perpetual rally cry of any consummate knuckle-dragger – “Me big, strong hunter-gatherer.  Me club woman on head [not too hard to damage goods] and drag back to cave for boom boom time.  Then me have her cook me animal carcass on fire and after that me kick her to cave curb!”  Ha!  Ah, the good ole’ days.  I like to think we have progressed beyond that juncture in human social interaction and then I go out on a weekend night and am not so sure…  Are we [human males] so myopic regarding relationship ideology?

Step 1 - Feed Me

Feed Me: It’s probably more than a bit antiquated to think that females should do the majority of the cooking in romantic relationships.  It’s inarguably stupid to believe that they are doing all of the cooking now.  I have been privy to empirical evidence that there are, indeed, many females out there in the land of perpetual dating that have little-to-no cooking skills.  Apparently the saying about certain people barely being able to boil water has some truth in it.  All of this writing about food and dating reminds me of the old adage that proclaims “the way to a man’s heart is his stomach”.  If that’s the case then there will be a whole lot of single women out there, now and in the near future!  However, as a knuckle-dragger myself I can say that the whole “guys think about sex every seven seconds” thing is utter nonsense.  The truth is  there are cognitions springing from the male mind related to food every 7 seconds and ones about sex every second!  I kid [sort of].  I mean who am I to speak for all males?!

On another level there are those that like to combine food and sex, a fetish [much like the rest], that I never understood.  I understand the hunger and desire for food post-coitus, but during the horizontal mambo you better keep whatever you happen to be snacking on well away from me!  What it comes down to, obviously, is that we are all inherently different.  We all have different wants and desires and ideas of an “ideal match”, etc., etc.  If you want to rub chocolate all over your prospective mate’s body [and summarily lick it off said person] make sure you mention that in your Match.com profile!

Ultimately Chris [Rock], I will have to disagree with you on this part of your life ideology pertaining to romantic relationships.  Personally I would rather cook my own food and not service myself!  Too much?  This is not just the Age of Information & Technology, it is the wondrous Age of Equality & Gender Role Smashing! The women are out of the kitchen and I cook better than most of the ones I know.  Feed yourself my [guy] friends!

F**k Me: Sex is awesome.  There is no debating that.  I shudder to think what that particular act was like during the aforementioned Cro-Magnon days, but there’s only one way into this life for us homo sapiens, i.e. someone sprung you out from their vagina.  So sorry to be so base, but such is life.  Let’s not sugarcoat things!  Now that we established that sex is important to humans [I know…alert the media!]  let’s explore the obvious a bit more.

Step 2 - F**K Me

Guys like sex.  Testosterone drives the male sex drive like water does a hydroelectric power plant.  We [males] spend nine months of our lives trying to escape the womb and the rest trying to get back in!  What?  Am I wrong about that?  That’s ok.  People seem to forget that humans are animals too.  What [behaviors] we witness in the lower echelons of the animal kingdom can and do exist in human life as well.  Do we not all [the lion’s share of Earth’s inhabitants] sleep, eat, defecate and procreate?  Granted we are one of the few species on this fetid rock that has sex for pleasure only…

The verdict?  Yes, Mr. Rock I agree with you [wholeheartedly] on this one.  If only we could somehow harness the awesome power of the human male sex drive [all hail the mighty penis!] , the search for alternative sources of fuel would cease immediately!  Despite the general degradation of our [males, again] desire for sex as we age [inextricably linked to the loss of testosterone during the aging process] there are still those gentlemen in their 80s and 90s looking to get lucky in senior facilities!  Sex:  Our gift, our curse.

Shut the F**k Up! Someone rolls off of someone after the act of the beast with two backs and, depending on the sex of the participant and the individual preference, the post-sex go-to could be ESPN, spooning, a sandwich, cigarettes, chocolate, sleep, a shower, a visit to the psychotherapist, etc.  However I expect Chris Rock was not referring to talk after sex, but oral discourse from that significant other or random sex partner in general.  Well may be not now that I think about it.  Most likely he is referring to nagging.  “Nagging” also known as “not-so-friendly reminders of s**t you should have done without anyone needing to tell you”!  From what I remember as a youth my mother and father were both world class naggers!

Step 3 - Shut the F*ck Up!

The generalization that women do most of the talking in a relationship is about as accurate as that of all men having inadequate map reading/navigation skills.  Say it ain’t so Joe!  People make and perpetuate generalizations?!  Noooooooooooooooo!  All my early childhood perceptions of mankind as the perfect species have been ruined!  The horror!

I am far [like light years…] from the ranks of the legions of metro-sexual males who gallivant around the D.C. area in makeup, Capri pants, and other [normally] estrogen-driven fashion/aesthetic choices, but even I, a proud knuckle-dragger, realize that sex is but a slice of the relationship pie.  If I can’t have an intelligent conversation with you outside of the negotiations leading up to sexual relations and don’t want to talk to you in general barring a few “oh yeahs!”  or “ouch , that hurts!” during sex you might as well be a prostitute and myself a john!  There is no arguing; the sex is great.  However, there has to be more.  Humans are living to be hundred+ years now.  Imagine a marriage of seventy years [observable in reality now].  That’s a lot of silence!  Eventually the food will be served by someone outside of the relationship and the sex will be most likely non-existent!

Ah, Chris.  I can’t go with you on this one either buddy.  I’m guessing since you recently got divorced from your wife on ten or so years you didn’t like what she was saying to you!  What’s good for the goose is not necessarily good for the rest of ‘em.  I look forward to conversations with my significant other.  It’s great to have the Cro-Mag discussions with the boys during any number of testosterone-driven activities, but it is equally nice to engage in some phenomenal repartee with the lady.

To reiterate [from my first UML blog contribution], we [men and women] are about as different as night and day!  We can’t expect to necessarily want the same things, be interested in all of the same hobbies and other work and life distractions and always see eye-to-eye.  Women are from Mars and men have a penis.  Let us once again rejoice in our inherent differences and try not to drive each other too bats**t crazy!

Good night and good luck.