Dear relationships (a repost),
Apparently, very expensive classes are offered on how to get a husband. Women pay potential good shoe money so some shrew can tell them how to change everything about their personality/dress sense/aroma in order to bag a man. This is cruel to men, as it seems that as soon as the lady has her giant rock (remember ladies; the bigger the diamond, the more he loves you!) and wedding planner, she can revert back to the type of woman that no man wanted in the first place. This should be some shite Hallmark movie or Cheryl Cole song lesson in how women should be ‘true’ to themselves, but really, these women should just shut the hell up and realize that nobody likes them. They should just get some fucking cats and hope their feline friends don’t eat their faces when they die.

I’m often asked relationship advice, like I’m the great beacon of stable relationships. “You’re 31 and you’ve been married twice! You’re an expert, an old pro!” “All right then. Never date a bloke who plays the didgeridoo, chew with your fucking mouth closed (you fucking cow), people named Simon are cunts and any man who wants you to be clean shaven is a pedophile.” It’s sound advice, but they never fucking listen to me, and therefore continue the circle of relationship life, shagging further and further down the food chain until they grow tired and die.

These mini-skirted maniacs, the human equivalent of a mating baboon’s red ass, are never going to bloody realize that acting like a decent human being will get them what they want. Instead they embark on mating rituals by diminishment: diminish their thigh size, diminish their IQs, diminish their sense of self-worth, then finally, diminish their clothing. As if removing every last bit of everything interesting there ever was about them, by turning themselves into a vagina with an overly made-up face will make them worthy to be somebody’s long-term fuck partner.

Then, say, they actually find a partner they want to fuck for life. They’ve spent every waking moment of their lives dreaming of finding a boy who sticks his penis in her vagina with flair. The entire relationship is from there forward entirely based around sexual chemistry, and they neglect things like, oh, speaking to each other. And they fall so in love with the pleasure experienced by their bits that they marry the source of this orgasmic gratification, and lo, they live happily and merrily, rutting as often as a clock chimes. That is, of course, until one of them tires, waking up only to realize that the best years of their lives have been wasted on cum.

Girls, I recommend this: if a boy desires you for your invented lack of personality, then he’s a cunt. If your entire relationship is based around fucking, a new word should be used entirely for this purpose. ‘Fuckfriend’ and ‘Fuckband’ work, and darling, if the your only happy times are spent with a penis up your fanny, you’re both going to wind up exhausted and lonely.

I find it odd that many people won’t marry their friends, as if the initial awkwardness of boning their best mate is their vision of hell, yet they’re more than happy to make a pledge for ‘forever after’ with a bloke whose pubic hair is more intimate than his eyes.

Love, my friends, is total happiness, not just the occasional arousal of a clitoris,

TheSnark
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 10:31, 18 replies)

Speaking from experience
One of the worst things two good friends can do is start having sex.

The truth of the matter is that human nature is not geared to monogamy. As evinced by since we first existed.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 10:44, closed)

But if we must...
...surely the other person should be likeable.

Yes, if we break ourselves down into animal components, go ahead and fuck fuck fuck. But don't think that it is a solid basis for a long-term loving relationship.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 10:48, closed)

That's the point
Love is merely a construct designed for population control through social judgement, and long-term relationships are against our nature.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 10:54, closed)

You've never fallen in love, have you?

(LongJohnBaldry, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 11:08, closed)

Yep.
I've been with Mrs Vagabond 11 years.

I also smoke. Smoking is completely against our nature too.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 11:20, closed)

In which case I apologise
But let me lay out my counterargument. It looks to me as though we both think along similar lines, that is, that all personality traits and assorted social interactions can be traced back to some basic, Darwinian need to survive long enough to reproduce. Given that our ultimate end-goal is to find the most suitable partner with which to procreate and pass on a share of our genetic material, the drive to shag comes into the equation early. Add to that the fact that you've got to survive in the wilderness long enough to find something to shag, and food and shelter become the next most important drives.

Of course, as animals evolve and increase in their complexity, a pack mentality arises in some species who find that hanging around in large numbers improves their chances of survival. This of course brings in other issues, because if you're ostracised from the pack, your chances of survival may well diminish quite rapidly. If you study a pack for long enough, you'll see that certain members dominate, lead the hunt, get first mating rights, etc. It's not difficult to extrapolate these elements to aspects of personalities in a modern social situation.

So you're right: love is a funny one. You say it's not within our nature, but I think it's more fair to say that it's not within that nature. You see, whilst most, maybe all, of these personality traits can be traced back to the things we needed to survive, we've ended up in a strange position whereby we've almost transcended our base, animal drives, and yet everything we do still relates back to them. (I'd like to re-word that, it's not quite what I'm trying to say) Our individual survival is no longer at risk on a daily basis, and so we have time to fritter away on entertainment, frivolous social interaction or intellectual pursuits. Granted, we still work for a living (money leads to food leads to survival), we still surround ourselves with friends (being part of a pack) and our heads still turn every time some pretty thing in short skirt wafts past (sexeh tiem = end-goal).

But since we are able to occupy our brains with other things than just where our next meal is coming from, we spend more time interacting with other people on a far more complex level, to the point where we enjoy each other's company. We no longer join packs based on which one offers the best chance of survival, but on the ones who share our interests. We choose our friends based on who we enjoy spending time with, as opposed to who might provide the best protection.

And in the same way that we grow attached to our good friends, every so often we grow a similarly strong attachment to a sexual partner. You've got a point, a lot of it is probably driven by a societal ideal that is "the right thing to do," but the very fact that we have the capacity to fall in love with someone, to want to spend time with them, to want to protect them and to make sure that they're happy and to develop this strange, soppy, sentimental bond to them, makes me think that for all my cold, clinical Darwinian view of human personality, monogamous love is not outside our nature. It probably wasn't in our nature when we first evolved, but as we've built this strange new environment around ourselves, it's something we've developed out of social interactions that would have been unheard of amongst the first packs of Homo Sapiens on the African savannah. (And I do appreciate that monogamy's not for everyone.)

Doubt it's relevant, but several species of crow mate for life.
(LongJohnBaldry, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 11:45, closed)

There are many species that mate for life - many of them birds
Penguins, swans and others.

We are neither penguins, crows, nor swans.

Male humans basically want to impregnate as many females as possible, and waste no significant time nurturing a relationship with the as it isn't necessary for impregnation, and female humans need to ensnare a male for the pregnancy and childhood of the offspring for support and protection.

This is why there is a battle of the sexes.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 12:29, closed)

Actually,
I believe penguins choose a new mate annually - they pick one for the mating season, stay together for most of the first 12 months and then wander off and find another come the next mating season.
(LongJohnBaldry, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 13:06, closed)

There are several species of penguin.
One of which features in Batman.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 13:30, closed)

Love is just as real as sex.

(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 11:11, closed)

It's a bit more difficult to do with more than one person, though.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 11:22, closed)

Passing comment
rubbish sex is not good for the health of a long-term relationship either ...
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 12:22, closed)

also
not everyone is entranced by a baboon's arse ... indeed a flange of red-arsed baboons, all wittering away at great volume, is easy to ignore ... the solo baboon at the edge of the flange's territory, messing around with sticks, with a twinkle in her eye, is the More Interesting Baboon...
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 12:26, closed)

But generally the most ugly baboon.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 12:30, closed)

although
filthy, intelligent baboons are more fun than Barbieboons who do it with the lights off because their lipstick is smudged
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 12:40, closed)

The trick is
To manipulate the self esteem of the barbiebaboons to the point that they feel the need to prove themselves in bed.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 12:49, closed)

Go over to that lot and shout, "You're worthless" then

arses not pictured...
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 18:52, closed)

Kissing don't last...
...laughs do. Me and MrsScars might shag once in a blue moon(we're both old and broken) but we laugh at and with each other every single fucking day.

Just tonight we got pissed and drew on each other with magic marker.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 22:46, closed)