PussyGirl was in shock. There was no other way to describe it.
How, she wondered, could anyone be so crass? Did StargazerMan really think that this would help his cause in any way; or indeed, that she would fall for it. The lesson here was clear - short and sweet - a man will say ANYTHING in order to get the girl, regardless of the voracity of the statement.
You question this, dear reader? Read on!
A transcript of the final excahnges between PG and StargazerMan:
SGM: It's so good to speak with you again PG
PG: Likewise oh astral man
SGM: Can I ask you a question?
PG: Please do, ask away.
SGM: Because it has been on my mind for some time
PG: Ah yes, would that be the past eight months or so?
SGM: Oh, don't be like that
PG: Like what?
SGM: You know I like you
PG: Really?
SGM: Yes, I have thought about you constantly
PG: Aha, so can I conclude then, that you are not a man of action?
SGM: What do you mean?
PG: Well, you thought a lot, but you did not convert that into a meaningful, tangible action - I never heard from you after you non appearance, so I assumed, you had lost interest.
SGM: Well, come on now, sweet kitten, I thought about you a lot, I was just busy, out of the country, working on a top level astro-project across the pond.
PG: I see, well thanks for the postcard!
SGM: Oh please, you know how busy I am with work.
PG: That I do, oh telescopic expert, and I would not want to drag you away from it, but as a scientist, you must recognise that your claims do not bear out in practice. Let me explain; if you meet a girl, woo her and are keen on her, is it not at least one bit logical to continue contact with her, whatever the land or sea mass divide?
SGM: But you see, I couldn't, I was so busy. But now I am back and I want to see you.
PG: Well, I am not convinced.
SGM: Now, be truthful dear cat, you must have thought of me a little bit......
PG: No, not at all. Once you failed to contact me, I felt it best to follow the advice of not wasting time thinking about someone who doesn't think about me......
SGM: Really? Not at all? Not one little bit........
PG: How many ways would you like me to say it?
This circular conversation continued for some time, with our feline friend politely indicating that much as he may wish it to be true, she had not spent hours considering how he was and where he was. She simply had given up all hope. But SGM was not to be so easily dissuaded, and there it was, it came crashing out of the nowhere of cyberspace and hit her square in the face, flashing across the screen:
SGM: Dear Pussy of mine, please meet with me and say we can try again. I think you know, as do I, that we are in love with each other; and we should not try and resist it..........
Once she had realigned her jaw, PG saw a shade of cat crimson and felt it time to remonstrate:
PG: Listen up! You may well want to try and pick up where we left off, but you should know dear that it is simply not cricket to bail out on a girl for months on end and then appear, from the vacuum of cyberspace, declaring love and lust and all things carnal!
SGM: Oh PG, please, you know we are in love. I cannot stop thinking about you.
PG thought for a moment, and then did the only reasonable thing she could think of - with a click of her faithful mouse, she banished the StarMan from her cyberuniverse and shut down her PC.
"Hmmmmmm," she mused, "the lengths some will go to. What was that line about men confusing love with sex and woman confusing sex with love? That noise she heard, that was the sound of a populist theory being well and truly debunked.......
Saturday, 11 September 2010
Friday, 26 February 2010
The Language of Love
After a considerable hiatus, PussyGirl decided it was time to update the universe on her feline frolics.
This had been an interesting year. Some things remained the same, as often happens:- EunuchMan continued desperately in need of treatment for his autistic tendencies and still had yet to grow anything resembling testicles; DeadBoy, God Bless him, remained absent in all but memory and the heady world of Internet coupling continued to be as unpredictable as ever.
Pondering, the past, present and that which was yet to come, PG noted that one thing was certain in the uncertain world - and slightly paradoxical in nature - there is nothing more predictably unpredictable than the male of the species, and her virtual escapades had corroborated this theory.
The latest turn of events had been unexpected to say the least. PussyGirl was pleased to note, that in her quest for knowledge and doctor status, philosophically speaking, she could now attest that the theory she had so readily subscribed to, had now, in fact been borne out through practical application. As any good student knows, the hypothesis is only ever as good as the reality which evidences it as a truth, and in this case, it had proved 100% true..........
StarGazerMan had been keen from the start and this pleased PussyGirl. Once past the initial assessment of the Internet dating types, PG had begun to see a pattern emerge, and realised that it was entirely possible to categorise the dating heroes, as no doubt she herself could be, should anyone care to undertake such as exercise.
One particular type intrigued her: - the Hapless Romantic. A recent theory, as outlined by an American academic, stated, after a longitudinal survey of men and women, their relationships and reactions to them, that men, NOT women, were the more romantic of the species by far - more inclined to fall in love, more likely to declare undying love, and the least able to let the dormant love lie. This had come a a surprise to PG; in fairness, she had not encountered many of these men, and thought perhaps the facile Men - Mars and Women-Venus psychobabble theory may well apply.
StarGazerMan was indeed a hapless romantic. Initially, things had gone well - a few dates, some delicious dinners - one cooked by the man himself - and PG thought, that although there was no instant spark, this could certainly have potential. Their next date had been agreed; they would meet in the Big City for dinner and drinks, and from there see how things progressed.
PG had chosen a small Italian Bistro for the rendezvous, and was sure the StarGazerMan would approve. He was late, but then, he was coming in from a conference, so it was normal that there might be a small delay. After an hour or so, PG began to think the worst - "perhaps," she mused, "I am going to be stood up!" And she was right. Text, voicemail, further calls; all produced the same response, or lack of - silence! She gathered her things and took the tube back to PussyMansions.
"How disappointing!" she thought, "he seemed like such a reliable type."
PG was a little down-hearted to say the least, but, she thought it best to hold judgement until she knew the full story. Anything could have happened, and until she heard some kind of explanation, it was best to not be too down about it. As she said to herself, there must be a reasonable and logical explanation, mustn't there?.........
That was the last she heard of StarGazerMan. She had sent an enquiring email, hoping all was well, and reminding him of the missed appointment. She had sent a follow up asking if he had received the first message. She had called twice, to check that the number she had was correct. And she had left a couple more voicemail messages; then, nothing!
"Hmmmm," she sighed to herself, "I thought he was more mannerly than that, but there you go. We can always misjudge, which clearly I did. A shame, but not a tragedy. Such is life!"
And so our PussyGirl continued on with work, and life and the PussyGang. Until, one day......
Ping!!!! And there he was, six months later in all his virtual glory, sending her a chat message.
This had been an interesting year. Some things remained the same, as often happens:- EunuchMan continued desperately in need of treatment for his autistic tendencies and still had yet to grow anything resembling testicles; DeadBoy, God Bless him, remained absent in all but memory and the heady world of Internet coupling continued to be as unpredictable as ever.
Pondering, the past, present and that which was yet to come, PG noted that one thing was certain in the uncertain world - and slightly paradoxical in nature - there is nothing more predictably unpredictable than the male of the species, and her virtual escapades had corroborated this theory.
The latest turn of events had been unexpected to say the least. PussyGirl was pleased to note, that in her quest for knowledge and doctor status, philosophically speaking, she could now attest that the theory she had so readily subscribed to, had now, in fact been borne out through practical application. As any good student knows, the hypothesis is only ever as good as the reality which evidences it as a truth, and in this case, it had proved 100% true..........
StarGazerMan had been keen from the start and this pleased PussyGirl. Once past the initial assessment of the Internet dating types, PG had begun to see a pattern emerge, and realised that it was entirely possible to categorise the dating heroes, as no doubt she herself could be, should anyone care to undertake such as exercise.
One particular type intrigued her: - the Hapless Romantic. A recent theory, as outlined by an American academic, stated, after a longitudinal survey of men and women, their relationships and reactions to them, that men, NOT women, were the more romantic of the species by far - more inclined to fall in love, more likely to declare undying love, and the least able to let the dormant love lie. This had come a a surprise to PG; in fairness, she had not encountered many of these men, and thought perhaps the facile Men - Mars and Women-Venus psychobabble theory may well apply.
StarGazerMan was indeed a hapless romantic. Initially, things had gone well - a few dates, some delicious dinners - one cooked by the man himself - and PG thought, that although there was no instant spark, this could certainly have potential. Their next date had been agreed; they would meet in the Big City for dinner and drinks, and from there see how things progressed.
PG had chosen a small Italian Bistro for the rendezvous, and was sure the StarGazerMan would approve. He was late, but then, he was coming in from a conference, so it was normal that there might be a small delay. After an hour or so, PG began to think the worst - "perhaps," she mused, "I am going to be stood up!" And she was right. Text, voicemail, further calls; all produced the same response, or lack of - silence! She gathered her things and took the tube back to PussyMansions.
"How disappointing!" she thought, "he seemed like such a reliable type."
PG was a little down-hearted to say the least, but, she thought it best to hold judgement until she knew the full story. Anything could have happened, and until she heard some kind of explanation, it was best to not be too down about it. As she said to herself, there must be a reasonable and logical explanation, mustn't there?.........
That was the last she heard of StarGazerMan. She had sent an enquiring email, hoping all was well, and reminding him of the missed appointment. She had sent a follow up asking if he had received the first message. She had called twice, to check that the number she had was correct. And she had left a couple more voicemail messages; then, nothing!
"Hmmmm," she sighed to herself, "I thought he was more mannerly than that, but there you go. We can always misjudge, which clearly I did. A shame, but not a tragedy. Such is life!"
And so our PussyGirl continued on with work, and life and the PussyGang. Until, one day......
Ping!!!! And there he was, six months later in all his virtual glory, sending her a chat message.
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