Don’t Upset Me!

 

I like women, though I have to disappoint you by telling that this is not a bold statement. It’s just a simple confession of my deepest admiration for femininity.

 

To be precise, I have to tell that I like women, in general, as much as I like men – with no particular meaning. The question is that women usually don’t like women and the only way to explain that is through the words: competition and insecurity.

 

Competition is nothing else but a good challenge if, just like in football, you learn fair play and to accept defeat. About insecurity, here is my hindsight: if you truly like yourself, than you necessarily have to love women in general.

 

One of the aspects I like in women is how nature gave them certain “mind skills”, maybe as a compensation from being less muscular.

 

Well, instead of philosophy on the subject, I am going to give you a personal (shameful) example of how our mind works. Since February I’ve been suffering from giddiness. I stopped looking for answers because: 1) My trusted good doctor said it was a European virus, supposed to disappear gradually. 2) I still feel it, but much milder and with less frequency.

 

From the beginning, Paul and I have tried to discover a pattern. Soon I concluded that there was no pattern. The spells happened any place, any time… I don’t understand how Paul was able to establish a pattern, but for him the dizzy spells happen if something bothers me.

 

At first I discussed this idea, but soon my feminine side surfaced. I am ashamed to tell that I started to use the dizziness to get things that I want! When I show the first sign of displeasure, Paul sheepishly agrees and asks: “Don’t or you will get dizzy!”

 

“Don’t upset her” has become a truly motto inside this house. I wasn’t completely aware of my “cleverness” until a few days ago. We went to a restaurant where I ordered prawns and Paul was undecided between octopus rice or grilled fish. I was happy with the octopus, because I also wanted to taste it. But then Paul started to have second thoughts and, suddenly, I just said it: “Stick with the rice, please. I am already feeling dizzy!”

 

When the rice came I was already very sorry, because I could see that he would feel happier with the grilled fish. I really deserved some kind of “punishment”. So, the day it was announced that Mugabe was (almost) history, instead of celebrating with a glass of wine I went to an extra class in the gym. I picked Katabox, an entire hour of boxing and kicking to the sound of tunes like Eye of the Tiger or Another One Bites the Dust. If you want to know how it was, I have to say that when it was over I was like Mugabe: almost done!

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